Hiiianininiii  iiii|| 


iiui' 


411  itmiiult 


rlj 


Srom  f 9e  fet6rar)?  of 

(profeBBor  HiJiffiam  ^entj  (Breen 

(J^equeat^b  6l?  ^im  fo 
t^  feifirati?  of 

(princefon  C^eofogtcaf  ^eminarg 


[p.  #^'61,^,  (^^\j^-e^-^ 


THE 


\  SPIRIT   OF   TEE    HEBREW 


POETRY. 


ISAAC  TAYLOE. 


■'-^^ 


WITH  A  SKETCH  OF  THE  LIl'E  OF  THE  AUTHOR 

AND   A  ■> 

CATALOGUE   OF   HIS   WRITINGS. 


NEW      YORK: 

WILLIAM     GO  WANS 


1862 


G  O  N  T  E  N  T  S 


r.u;E 
rUEFACE.  . V 

CHAPTER  I. 

'J  he  Relation  of  the  Hebrew  Poetry  to  the  Religious  Purposes 

it  Subserves 11 

CHAPTER  IL 

Commixture  of  the  Divine  and  the  Human  Elements  in  the 

Hebrew  Poetic  Scriptures 31 

CHAPTER  in. 

Artificial  Structure  of  the   Hebrew  Poetry,  as  related  to  its 

Purposes.       ..........       46 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Ancient  Palestine — the  Birthplace  of  Poetry.      .         .         .65 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  Tradition  of  a  Paradise  Ls  the  Germ  of  Poetry,    ...       94 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Biblical  Idea  of  Patriarchal  IJfe 101 

CHAPTER  VIT. 
The  IsraeUte  of  the  Exodu.a,  and  the  Theocracy.         .         .         .     103 


iv  CONTENTS. 


CIIAPTKll  A^Iir. 

I'.Klry  in  tlie  Book  of.Tcb 128 

ClIAPTKR  IX. 
roctry  ui  the  Psalms.         ........     136 

CHAPTER  X. 
Solomon,  and  the  Song  of  Songs 165 

CHAPTER  XI. 
The  Poetry  of  the  Earlier  Hebrew  Prophets.      ....     178 

CHAPTER  XH. 
CuhiiLnution  of  the  Hebrew  Poetrj-  and  Prophecy  in  Isaiah.        .     194 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  Later  Prophets,  and  the  Disappearance  of  the  Poetic  Ele- 
ment in  the  Hebrew  Scriptures. 212 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

The   Millennium    of  the    Hebrew  Poetry,  and   the    Principle 

which  Pervades  it 229 

CHAPTER  XV. 
The  Hebrew  Literature,  and  other  Literatures    ....     241 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  Ik'l)rew  Poetry,  and  the  Divine  Legation  of  the  Prophets.  .     255 

CHAPTER  XVIL 

Cotitinuancc   of    tlie   Hebrew    Poetry   and    Prophecy   to   the 

World's  End 273 

KoTKs.       Biographical  Skktcii.       Catalogue  of  Writings. 


r  R  E  F  A  C  E . 


The  title  of  this  volmiio  is  the  same  as  that  of  a  course 
of  lectures  which  I  delivered  at  Edinburgh,  and  after- 
wards at  Glasgow,  in  the  winter  of  1852.  At  the  time 
I  was  asked  to  publish  these  lectures  ;  but  as  in  thepre- 
]>aration  of  them  1  luid  not  been  able  to  command  much 
leisure,  I  felt  no  inclination  to  bring  them  forward,  such 
as  they  were  when  delivered. 

But  in  looking  at  the  notes  of  those  lectures,  once  and 
again  in  the  course  of  these  ten  years,  they  seemed  to 
contain  some  germs  of  thought  which  might  be  brouglit 
to  bear  u[)on  the  great  biblical  argument  that  has  lately 
awakened  the  attention  of  the  religious  community. 
This  biblical  argument  which,  as  to  its  substance,  is  still 
in  progress,  gives  a  new  meaning,  or  an  enhanced  im- 
portance, to  most  of  the  questions  that  come  within  the 
range  of  Christian  belief,  or  of  biblical  criticism  ;  and  it 
follows  therefore  that  what  might  be  said  or  written  ten 
years  ago,  on  any  of  these  subjects,  will  need  to  be 
reconsidered,  and,  in  fact,  re-written,  at  the  present 
time.     So  it  has  been  tluit,  in  ju'cparing  this  volume  for 


VI  PREFACE, 


the  jn'css — witli  tlie  notes  of  the  lectures  before  me — a 
few  i)ass:iges  only  liave  seemed  to  me  entu-ely  avaihible 
for  my  ])ur[)ose.  I  have  indeed  adoi)ted  the  title  of  the 
h'cturesas  the  title  of  the  volume  ;  and  as  much  i)erliaps 
as  the  quantity  of  three  of  the  following  chai^ters  has 
been  transferred  from  tliose  Jiotes  to  these  pages.  This 
explnnation  is  due  from  me  to  any  readers  of  the  hook 
wlio,  by  chance,  might  have  been  among  the  hearers  of 
the  lectures,  either  at  Edinburgh,  or  at  Glasgow,  in  the 
November  of  1852. 

A  momentous  argument  indeed  it  is  that  has  lately 
moved  the  religious  mind  in  England.  So  f:ir  as  this 
controversy  has  had  the  character  of  an  agitation^  it 
must,  in  the  coui-se  of  things,  soon  cease  to  engage 
popular  regard  : — agitations  subside,  and  the  public 
mind — too  (juickly  perha])S —returns  to  its  point  of 
equipoise,  Mhere  it  rests  until  it  is  moved  anew  in  some 
otlier  manner.  It  would,  however,  be  an  error  to  sup- 
])0se  that  the  agitation  will  not  have  brought  about 
some  permanent  changes  in  religious  thought;  and, 
moreover,  if  a  supposition  of  this  kind  would  be  an 
error,  something  worse  than  simply  cm  error  would  be 
implied  if  anv  should  indulsjre  a  wish  that  thin"s  midit 
be  allowed  to  collapse  into  their  anterior  position, 
unchanged  and  unbenefited,  by  the  recent  controversy. 
A  wish  of  this  sort  would  indicate  at  once  extreme 
ignorance  as  to  the  catise  and  the  nature  of  the  argu- 
ment, and  moreover  a   culpable   inditlerence  in  relation 


PREFACE.  Vll 

to  the  progress  aiul  the  re-establishiuent  of  Chiistiaii 
belief. 

Animated,  or — it  may  be — passionate,  religions  con- 
troversies are  hnrricanes  in  the  world  of  thonght, 
ordained  of  God  for  eifeeting  pnrposes  which  would  not 
be  etfected  otherwise  than  by  the  violence  of  storms  ; 
and  let  this  figure  serve  us  a  step  further. — The  same 
hurricane  which  clears  the  atmosphere,  and  which  sweei)S 
away  noxious  accumulations  from  the  surface  of  the 
earth,  serves  a  not  less  important  purpose  in  bringing 
into  view  the  fissures,  the  settlements,  the  forgotten 
rents  in  the  structures  we  inhabit.  It  is  Heaven's  own 
work  thus  to  purify  the  atmosphere ;  but  it  is  man's 
work  to  look  anew  to  his  own  house — after  a  storm,  and 
to  repair  its  dilapidations.  To  rejoice  gratefully  in  a 
health-giving  atmosphere,  and  a  clear  sky,  is  what  is 
due  to  piety ;  but  it  is  also  due  to  piety  to  effect,  in 
time,  needed  repairs  at  home. 

As  to  the  recent  out-speak  of  unbelief,  it  is  of  that 
kind  which  must,  in  the  nature  of  things,  be  recurrent, 
at  intervals,  longer  or  shorter.  The  very  conditions  of 
a  Revelation  that  has  been  consigned  to  various  records 
in  the  course  of  thirty  centuries  involve  a  liability  to  the 
renewal  of  exceptive  argumentation,  which  easily  finds 
points  of  lodgment  upon  so  lai*ge  a  surface.  But  this 
]>eriodic  atheistic  epilepsy  (unbelief  within  the  pale  of 
Christianity  never  fails  to  become  atheistic)  will  not 
occasion    alarm    to   tho^c    who    iiidci'd    kii<>w    on    what 


Vlii  PREFACE. 


ground  they  stand  on  the  side  of  religious  belief.  This 
ground  has  not,  and  will  not,  be  shaken. 

Looking  inwards  upon  our  Christianity — looking 
Churchward — there  may  indeed  be  reason  for  uneasi- 
ness. This  recent  agitation  could  not  fail  to  bring  into 
view,  in  the  sight  of  all  men — the  religious,  and  the 
irreligious — alike,  a  defect,  a  want  of  understanding,  a 
Haw,  or  a  fault,  in  that  mass  of  o})inion  concerning  the 
Scriptui-es,  as  inspired  books,  Avhich  we  have  inherited 
from  our  remote  ancestors.  No  one,  at  this  time,  well 
knows  what  it  is  which  he  believes,  as  to  this  great 
question ;  or  what  it  is  which  he  ought  to  believe  con- 
cerning those  conditions — literary  and  historical — sub- 
ject to  which  the  Revelation  we  accept  as  from  God, 
and  which  is  attested  as  such,  by  miracles,  and  by  the 
Divine  proe-notation  of  events,  has  been  embodied  in  the 
books  of  the  Canon. 

There  are  indeed  many  who,  not  only  will  reject  any 
such  intimation  of  obscurity  or  doubtfulness  on  this 
ground,  but  who  will  show  a  hasty  resentment  of  what 
they  will  denounce  as  an  insidious  assault  upon  the 
faith.  The  feelings,  or  say — the  prejudices,  of  persons 
of  this  class  ought  to  be  respected,  and  their  inconside- 
rateness  should  be  kindly  allowed  for ;  their  fears  and 
their  jealousies  are — for  the  truth  ;  nor  should  we  im- 
pute to  good  men  any  but  the  best  motives,  even  when 
their  want  of  temper  appears  to  be  commensurate  with 
their  want  of  intelligence.     But  after  showing  all  for- 


PREFACE.  IX 

bcaraiice  toward  such  wortliy  persons,  lliere  is  a  liiglicr 
duty  which  must  not  be  evaded  : — tliere  is  a  duty  to 
ourselves,  and  tliere  is  a  duty  to  our  imniediate  succes- 
sors, and  there  is  a  duty  to  the  mass  of  imperfectly 
informed  Christian  persons,  who,  in  due  time,  will  be 
seen  insensibly  to  accept,  as  good  and  safe,  modes  of 
thinking  and  speaking  which,  at  one  time,  would  have 
seemed  to  them  quite  inadmissible  and  dangerous. 

The  remaining  defect  or  flaw  in  our  scheme  of  belief 
concerning  the  conveyance  of  a  Supernatural  llevelatiou 
makes  itself  felt  the  most  obtrusively  in  relation  to  the 
Old  Testament  Scriptures.  It  is  here,  and  it  is  on  this 
extensive  field,  that  minds,  negatively  constituted,  and 
perhaps  richly  accomplished,  but  wanting  in  the  grasp 
and  power  of  a  healthful  moral  consciousness,  and 
wholly  wanting  in  spiritual  consciousness,  find  their 
occasion.  The  surface  over  which  a  soi)histicated  reason 
and  a  fastidious  taste  take  their  course  is  here  very 
large  ;  for  the  events  of  a  people's  history,  and  the  mul- 
tifarious literature  of  many  centuries,  come  to  find  a 
place  within  its  area.  The  very  same  extent  of  surface 
from  which  a  better  reason,  and  a  more  healthful  moral 
feeling  gather  an  irresistible  conviction  of  the  nearness 
of  God  throughout  it,  furnishes,  to  an  astute  and  frigid 
critical  faculty,  a  thousand  and  one  instances  over  wliich 
to  ])roclaim  a  petty  trium})h. 

So  must  it  ever  be.  Thei'e  is  here  a  contraiiety 
which  is  inherent  in  llie  nature  of  the  case;  and  which 

1" 


X  PREFACE, 


the  diverse  teinpeiaiiieiits  of  minds  will  never  cease  to 
l)rini;-  into  collision  with  religious  faith.  What  is  it  then 
wliich  niiglit  be  wished  for  to  preclude  the  ill  conse- 
quences that  accrue  from  these  periodic  collisions  ?  Do 
we  need  some  new  theory  of  inspiration  ?  Or  ought 
there  to  take  place  a  stepping  back,  along  the  whole 
line  of  religious  belief?  Or  do  we  need  to  make  a  sur- 
render of  certain  aiticles  of  faith  ?  Or  should  we  shelter 
ourselves  under  evasions  '?  Or  would  it  be  well  to  quash 
inquiry  by  authority,  or  to  make  a  show  of  terrors  for 
intimidating  assailants?  Xone  of  these  things  are 
needed  ;  nor,  if  resorted  to,  could  they  be  of  any  per- 
manent service. 

The  requirement  is  this,  as  I  humbly  think — That,  on 
all  hands,  Ave  should  be  willing  to  throw  aside,  as  unau- 
thentic and  unwarranted,  a  natural  prejudice  ;  or,  let  it 
I'ather  be  called — a  siwntaneous  ju'oduct  of  religious 
it'cling,  which  leads  us  to  frame  conditions,  and  to  insist 
upon  requirements,  that  ought^  as  we  imagine,  to  limit 
the  Divine  wisdom  in  embodying  the  Divine  will  in  a 
Avritten  lievelation.  Instead  of  insisting  upon  any  such 
conditions,  ought  we  not  rather,  in  all  humility,  to 
acknowledge  that,  in  the  Divine  methods  of  proceeding 
toward  mankind — natural,  providential,  and  sui)erna- 
tui-al — we  have  everything  to  learn,  and  nothing  to 
pi'emise  ? 


SaXFORD    PiIVERS, 

September,  1S61. 


THE 

SPIRIT  OF  THE  HEBREW  POETRY 


CH  APT  Ell  I. 

THE    RELATION    OF    THE    HEBREW    POETRY    TO    THE    RELI- 
GIOUS   PURPOSES    IT   SUBSERVES. 

WiiEX  the  Scriptures  of  tlie  Old  Teslainent  are 
accepted,  collectively,  as  an  cmbodiineiit  of  First 
Truths  in  Theology  and  Morals,  three  suppositions 
concerning  them  are  before  us  ;  one  of  which,  or  a 
part  of  each,  we  may  believe  ourselves  at  liberty  to 
adopt.     The  three  sui)positions  are  these  : — 

1.  We  may  grant  that  these  writings — symbolic  as 
they  are  in  their  phraseology  and  style,  and,  to  a 
great  extent,  metrical  in  their  structure,  as  well  as 
])oetical  in  tone — were  well  suited  to  the  purposes 
of  religious  instruction  among  a  people,  such  as  we 
suppose  the  Israelitish  tribes  to  have  been  at  the  time 
of  their  establishment  in  Palestine,  and  such  as  they 
continued  to  be  mitil  some  time  after  tlie  return  of  the 
remnant  of  the  nation  from  l>abylon. 

2.  More  than  this  we  may  allow,  namely,  this — that 
these    same     writings — the    history    and     the    i»oetry 


12  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

taken  tooether,  are  also  well  adapted  to  the  uses  and 
ends  of"  lyopular  religious  instruction  in  any  country 
and  evei'V  age,  Avhere  and  wlieii  there  are  classes 
of  the  connnuuity  to  be  taught  that  are  nearly  on  a 
level,  intellectually,  with  the  ancient  Hebrew  race: — 
that  is  to  say,  among  those  with  whom  philosophic 
habits  of  thought  have  not  been  developed,  and  wiiose 
religious  notions  and  mstincts  are  comparatively  infan- 
tile. 

3.  lUit  a  higher  ground  than  this  may  be  taken, 
and  it  is  the  ground  that  is  assumed  throughout  the 
ensuing  chai)ters ;  and  it  is  in  accordance  with  this 
assumption,  that  whatever  may  be  advanced  therein 
must  be  interpreted.  It  is  affirmed  then,  that,  not 
less  in  relation  to  the  most  highly-cultured  minds  than 
to  the  most  rude — :not  less  to  minds  disciplined  in 
abstract  thought,  than  to  such  as  are  unused  to  gene- 
ralization of  any  kind — the  Hebrew  Scriptures,  in 
their  metaphoric  style,  and  their  poetic  diction,  are 
the  iittest  medium  for  conveying,  what  it  is  their  pur- 
l^ose  to  convey,  concerning  the  Divine  Nature,  and 
concerning  the  spiritual  life,  and  concerning  the  cor- 
respondence of  man — tlie  tinite,  Avith  God — the  Infi- 
nite. 

It  is  on  this  hypothesis  concerning  the  Hebrew 
Scriptures,  and  not  otherwise,  that  the  books  of  the 
New  Testament  take  possession  as  consecutive  to  the 
books  of  the  Old  Testament — the  one  being  the  com- 
plement of  the  other;  and  the  two  constituting  a  ho- 
mogeneous svi-tem.  The  Prophets  (and  they  were 
Poets)  of  the  elder  Revelation,  having  fulfilled  a  func- 
tion which  demanded  the  symbolic  style,  and  which 
could  submit  to  no  other  conditions  than  those  of  this 


HEBREW    POETRY.  13 

liguralivc  mtcmneo,  tlie  Evaiigclisls  niiel  Apostles, 
"whose  style  is  wholly  of  another  order,  do  not  lay 
anew  a  foundation  that  was  already  well  laid ;  hut 
tliey  build  upon  it  whatever  was  peculiar  to  that  later 
Revelation  of  which  they  Avere  the  instruments.  In 
the  Hebrew  writings — poetic  in  form,  as  to  a  great 
extent  they  are — we  are  to  find,  not  a  ci-ude  theology, 
adajned  to  the  gross  conceptions  of  a  rude  people ;  but 
an  ultimate  theology — wanting  that  only  which  the 
fulness  of  tune  was  to  add  to  it,  and  so  rendering  the 
Two  Collections — a  One  Revelation,  adapted  to  the 
use  of  all  men,  in  all  times,  and  under  all  conditions  of 
intellectual  advancement. 

If  on  subjects  of  the  deepest  concernment,  and  in 
relation  to  which  the  human  mind  labours  with  its  own 
conceptions,  and  yearns  to  know^  Mhatever  may  be 
known — Christ  and  His  ministers  are  biief  and  allu- 
sive, they  are  so,  not  as  if  in  rebuke  of  these  desires  ; 
but  because  the  limits  of  a  divine  conveyance  of  the 
things  of  the  spiritual  world  had  already  been  reached 
by  the  choir  of  the  prophets.  All  that  could  be  taught 
had  been  taught  "  to  them  of  old ;"  and  this  sum  of 
the  ])hilosophy  of  heaven  had  been  communicated  in 
those  diverse  modes  and  styles  Avhich  had  exhausted 
the  resources  of  human  utterance  to  convey  so  much 
as  is  conveyed. 

To  give  reality  to  what  had  been  foreshown  in 
shadows;  to  accomplish  what  had  been  j)redicted  ;  to 
exi)ound,  in  a  higher  sense,  Avhatever  is  universal  and 
eternal  in  morals  ;  to  authenticate  anew  v\  hat  might 
have  Ix'cn  called  in  (piestion — these  functions  wei-e 
proper  to  the  ministers  of  the  Liter  JJispensation ;  and 
the  bcoks  of  the  Xew  Tcstnment  are  the  record  oi'  this 


IJ:  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

work  of  completion,  in  its  several  kinds.  Yet  this  is 
tlie  clKuaeteiistic  of  the  Christian  writings,  that  they 
abstain  from  the  endeavour  to  throw  into  an  abstract  or 
pliilosopliic  form  tbose  first  truths  of  theology  to  which 
the  prophets  of  the  Old  Testament  had  given  expres- 
sion in  symbolic  terms  and  in  the  figures  of  the  He- 
brew poetry.  The  parables  of  Ciikis-t— symbolic  as 
they  are,  but  not  poetic — touch  those  things  of  the 
new  "kingdom  of  Heaven"  which  belong  to  the  human 
development  of  it;  or  to  the  administration  of  the 
Gospel  on  earth  ;  or  within  the  consciousness  of  men 
singly. 

Those  who  choose  to  do  so  may  employ  their  time 
in  inquiring  in  what  other  modes  than  those  which  are 
characteristic  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  the  liighest 
trutlis  in  theology  might  be  embodied,  and  whether 
these  principles  may  not  be,  or  might  not  have  been, 
subjected  to  the  conditions  of  abstract  generalization, 
and  so  brought  into  order  within  the  limits  of  a  logical 
and  scientific  arrangement.  Let  these  philosophic 
diversions  be  pursued,  at  leisure,  until  they  reach  a 
result  which  might  be  reported  of  and  accepted.  Mean- 
time it  is  enough  for  us  to  know  that  no  such  result 
has  hitherto  ever  rewarded  the  labours,  either  of  oriental 
sages  in  the  remotest  periods,  or  of  Grecian  philoso- 
phers, or  of  the  Alexandrian  teachers,  or  of  mediaeval 
doctors,  or  of  the  great  thinkers  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, or  of  those  of  the  times  in  which  we  live.  Meta- 
physic  Theologies,  except  so  far  as  they  take  up  the 
very  teiins  and  figures  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures,  have 
iiitherto  shown  a  properly  religious  aspect  in  proportion 
as  ihey  have  been  imintelligible : — when  intelligible 
they    become — if  not    atheistic,    yet    tending   in    that 


HEBREW    POETRY.  15 

direction.  When  tliis  is  affirmed  tlie  inference  is  not — 
tliat  a  Tine  Theology  niiglit  not  be  embodied  in  ab- 
stiaet  terms,  in  an  upper  world;  but  tlii.s,  that  the 
terms  and  the  modes  of  human  reason  are,  and  must 
ever  be,  insufficient  for  purjioscs  of  this  kind. 

This  failure,  or  this  succession  of  failures,  may  indeed 
alfect  the  credit  of  Philosophy  ;  but  in  no  degree  does 
it  throw  disadvantage  upon  the  religious  well-being  of 
those  who  are  content  to  take  their  instruction  and 
their  training  from  the  Holy  Scriptures.  These  writ- 
ings, age  after  age,  have  in  fact  met,  and  they  have 
satisfied  the  requirements  of  piety  and  of  virtue  in  the 
instance  of  millions  of  the  humble  and  devout  readers 
of  the  Bible  ;  and  it  has  been  so  as  well  among  the  most 
highly  cultured  as  among  the  unlearned ;  and  they  have 
imparted  to  such  whatever  it  is  needful  and  possible 
for  man  to  know  concerning  God,  the  Creator,  the 
Ruler,  the  Father,  and  concerning  that  life  divine,  the 
end  of  which  is — the  life  eternal. 

The  most  obvious  difference  between  the  terms  and 
style  of  Speculative  or  Metaphysic  Theology,  and  the 
Theology  of  the  Scriptures — of  the  Old  Testament 
especially — is  this,  that  while  the  language  of  the  one 
is  reduced  to  a  condition  as  remote  as  i)ossible  from 
the  figurative  mode  of  conveying  thought,  the  language 
of  til e  other  is,  in  every  instance^  purely  figurative ; 
and  til  at  it  abstains  absolutely,  and  always,  from  the 
abstract  or  philosophic  usage  of  the  words  it  employs. 
Yet  this  obvious  difference  between  the  two  is  not  the 
only  dissimilarity  ;  nor  perhaps  is  it  that  which  is  of 
the  highest  importance  to  be  kept  in  view,  for  these 
two  modes' of  theolo^ic  teachino^  have  different  inten- 
tions  ;  or,  as   we   might  say,  the  centre  toward   which 


16  THE    SIM  HIT    OF    THE 

tlie  VMrious  niaterials  of  each  system  tends  is  i)rop('r  to 
each,  and  is  exchisive  of  tlie  otlier. 

Scientific  Theology  professes  to  regard  tlie  Divine 
Nature  and  attributes  as  its  centre;  and  from  tliat 
centre  (supposed  to  be  known)  inferences  in  all  direc- 
tions are  logically  derived.  But  the  very  contrary  of 
this  is  true  of  Biblical  Theology  ;  for  the  central  area 
of  Biblical  Theism  is — the  human  spirit,  in  its  actual 
condition,  its  original  powers,  its  necessary  limitations, 
its  ever  varying  consciousness,  its  lapses,  its  sorrows,  its 
perils,  its  hopes,  and  its  fears: — its  misjudgments,  its 
faiths,  its  unbelief: — its  brightness,  its  darkness: — what- 
ever is  life-like  in  man,  and  whatever  portends  death. 
Although  the  two  systems  possess  in  common  whatever 
is  true  concerning  God,  everything  within  each  wears 
an  aspect  widely  unlike  the  aspect  which  it  presents  in 
the  other. 

The  instinctive  tendency  of  the  human  mind  (or  of 
a  certain  class  of  minds)  to  generalize,  and  to  pursue, 
to  their  end,  the  most  abstract  forms  of  thought,  is  not 
in  itself  blameworthy,  nor  must  it  be  charged  with  the 
ill-consequences  and  the  failures  which  often  are  its 
fruit.  Where  there  is  no  generalization  there  will  be 
no  jH'ogress  :  where  there  is  no  endeavour  to  pass  on 
from  the  concrete  to  the  abstract,  men  individually, 
and  nations,  continue  stationary  in  a  rude  civilization  :  — 
there  may  be  mind ;  but  it  sleeps  ;  or  it  is  impotently 
active : — it  is  busy,  but  it  does  not  travel  forward.  Yet 
it  is  only  within  the  range  of  eartli,  or  of  things  that 
are  indeed  cognizable  by  the  human  mind,  that  this 
power  of  abstraction — the  highest  and  the  noblest  of  its 
])owers — can  be  productive  of  what  must  always  be  its 
aim  and  purpose,  namely,  an  absolute  philosopliy  ;  or  a 


HEBREW    POETRY.  17 

})liiloso|>liy  wliicli  .shall  l)e  coherent  in  itself,  and  shall 
be  exempt  from  internal  contradictions. 

It  is  on  this  gronnd,  then,  that  the  Hebrew  writers, 
in  their  cai)acity  as  teachers  of  Theology,  occnpy  a 
j)Osition  where  they  are  broadly  distinguished  from  all 
other  teachers  with  whom  they  might  properly  be  com- 
pared, whether  ancient  or  modern,  oriental  or  western. 
Pliilosophers,  or  founders  of  theologies,  aiming  and  in- 
tending to  promulgate  a  Divine  Theory — a  scheme 
of  theism — have  spoken  of  God  as  the  object,  or  as 
the  creation  of  liuman  thought.  But  the  Hebrew 
writers,  one  and  all,  and  with  marvellous  unanimity, 
speak  of  God  relatively  only ;  or  as  He  is  related  to 
the  immediate  religious  purposes  of  this  teaching.  Or 
if  for  a  moment  they  utter  what  might  have  the  aspect 
of  an  abstract  i)roposition,  they  bring  it  into  contact, 
at  the  nearest  jjossible  point,  with  the  spiritual  wants 
of  men,  or  with  their  actual  moral  condition;  as  thus, 
"  Great  is  the  Lord,  and  of  great  power,  and  His  un- 
derstanding is  infinite.  He  telleth  the  number  of  the 
stars  :  He  calleth  them  all  by  their  names  ;"  but  this 
Intinite  and  Almighty  Being  is  He  that  "  healeth  the 
broken  in  heart,  and  bindeth  up  their  wounds."  It  is 
the  human  spirit  always  that  is  the  central,  or  cohesive 
principle  of  the  Hebrew  Theology.  The  theistic  affir- 
mations that  are  scattered  throughout  the  books  of 
the  Old  Testament  are  not  susceptible  of  a  synthetic 
adjustment  by  any  rule  of  logical  disti-ibution ;  and 
although  they  are  never  contradictory  one  of  another, 
they  may  seem  to  1)e  so,  inasmuch  as  the  principle 
which  would  show  their  accordance  stands  remote 
from  human  apprehcnsitjn  : — it  must  be  so  ;  and  to 
suppose   otherwise   wonM    b"  to  atlinn    that  the  iinite 


18  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

miiid  may  2^nisp  tlie  Infinite.  The  several  elements  of 
this  Theism  are  complementary  one  of  another,  only 
in  relation  to  the  needs,  and  to  the  diseipline  of  the 
limnan  mind  ; — not  so  in  relation  to  its  modes  of  speen- 
lative  thonght,  or  to  its  own  reason.  Texts  packed  in 
order  will  not  build  np  a  Theology,  in  a  scientific  sense; 
Avhat  they  will  do  is  this — they  meet  the  variable  neces- 
sities of  the  spiritual  life,  in  every  mood,  and  in  every 
l^ossible  occasion  of  that  life.  Texts,  metaphoric  always 
in  their  terms,  take  effect  ui)on  the  religious  life  as 
counteractive  one  of  another ;  or  as  remedial  appli- 
ances, which,  when  rightly  employed,  j^i'e^erve  and 
restore  the  spiritual  health. 

If  v>e  were  to  bring  together  the  entire  compass  of 
the  figurative  theology  of  the  Scriptures  (and  this  must 
be  the  theology  of  the  Old  Testament)  it  would  be  easy 
to  arrange  the  whole  in  perifery  around  the  human  spirit, 
as  related  to  its  manifold  experiences;  but  a  hopeless 
task  it  would  be  to  attempt  to  arrange  the  same  passages 
as  if  in  circle  around  the  hypothetic  attributes  of  the 
Absolute  Being.  The  human  reason  faulters  at  every 
step  in  attempting  so  to  interpret  the  Divine  Nature  ; 
yet  the  quickened  soul  interprets  for  itself— and  it  does 
so  anew  every  day,  those  signal  passages  upon  which  the 
fears,  the  hopes,  the  griefs,  the  consolations  of  years 
gone  by  have  set  tlieir  mark. 

The  i-eligious  and  si)iritual  life  has  its  postulates,  which 
might  be  s})ecified  in  order;  and  nnder  each  head  they 
are  broadly  distinguishable  from  what,  on  the  same 
ground,  might  be  named  as  the  postulates  of  Speculative 
Thonght.  Indispensable,  for  instance,  to  the  healthful 
energy  of  the  religious  life  is  an  unsoi)histicated  confi- 
dence in   wliat  is  termed  the  onmipresence  and  omni- 


HEBREW    POETRY.  19 


science  of  God,  the  Fatlier  of  spirits;  but  on  this  o-round, 
mIici'c  the  Hebrew  writers  are  clear,  peremptory,  unfal- 
terinLT,  and  unconscious  of  perplexity,  Speculative 
Thought  stumbles  at  its  first  attempts  to  advance  ;  and 
as  to  that  faculty  by  aid  of  which  we  realize,  in  some 
degree,  an  abstract  principle,  and  bring  it  within  range 
of  the  imagination,  it  is  here  utterly  baffled.  The  belief 
in  this  doctrine  is  sim})le  ; — we  may  say  it  is  natural  :  — 
but  as  to  an  intellectual  realization  of  it,  this  is  impos- 
sible ;  and  as  to  a  philosophic  expreL^sion  of  such  a 
belief  in  words,  the  most  acutely  analytic  minds  have 
lost  their  way  in  utter  darkness;  or  they  have  landed 
themselves  in  Pantheism ;  or  they  have  beguiled  them- 
selves and  their  disciples  with  a  compnge  of  words  with- 
out meaning.  The  power  of  the  human  mind  to  admit 
simultaneously  a  consciousness  of  more  than  one  object 
is  so  limited,  or  it  is  so  soon  quite  exhausted,  that  a  dac- 
trine  which  we  grant  to  be  incontestably  certain,  refuses 
more  perhaps  than  any  other,  to  submit  itself  to  the 
conditions  of  hunum  thought: — it  is  never  mastered. 
Aware,  as  every  one  wh(^  thinks  must  be,  of  this  insur- 
mountable difficulty,  we  ought  not  to  except  against 
that  mode  of  overleaping  the  obstruction  which  the 
Hebrew  writers  offer  to  our  accei)iance : — figurati\e  in 
phrase,  and  categorical  in  style,  they  affirm  that — ''Tlie 
eyes  of  the  Lord  are  in  every  place,  beholding  the  evil 
and  the  good;""  or  thus  again — ''Tliou  knowest  my 
downsitting  and  mine  uprising;  Thou  understandest 
my  thought  afar  off.'' 

The  longer  we  labour,  in  scientific  modes,  at  the  ele- 
ments of  Theism  the  deejier shall  we  i)lunge  in  an  abyss; 
and  we  sliall  leani,  ])erhaps  too  late,  tlie  wisdom  of  rest- 
ing in  a  devout  acknowledgment  to   this  cfiect — '"Such 


20  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

kiio\vlecl<;c  (of  God)  is  too  wonderful  forme:  it  ig  hii^li, 
I  cannot  attain  unto  it."  But  tlie  IIebre\v  writers  make 
short  work  of  philosopliic  stumbling-blocks  ;  and  they 
secure  their  religious  intention,  which  is  their  sole  inten- 
tioji^  in  that  one  mode  in  which  a  belief  which  is  indis- 
pensable to  the  religious  life  presents  itself,  on  what 
might  be  called  its  conceivable  side.  They  affirm  the 
truth  in  the  most  absolute  and  unexceptive  style,  giving 
it  all  the  breadth  it  can  have ;  but  in  doing  so,  and  in 
the  same  breath,  they  affirm  that  which  serves  to  lodge 
it  in  the  spiritual  consciousness,  as  a  caution,  or  as  a 
comfort ;  they  lodge  the  universal  principle  as  near  as 
may  be  to  the  fears,  and  to  the  hopes,  and  to  the  devout 
yearninjrs  of  the  individual  man.  If  w-e  do  not  relish 
this  style  and  this  method,  we  should  think  ourselves 
bound  to  bring  forward  a  better  style,  and  to  propound 
a  more  approvable  method.  At  any  rate,  we  should 
give  a  sample  of  some  one  style  or  method  other  than 
this,  and  between  which  and  the  Biblical  manner  we 
might  make  a  choice.  No  alternative  that  is  at  once 
intelligible  and  admissible  has  ever  yet  been  brought 
forward.  God  may  be  known,  and  his  attributes  may  be 
discoursed  of,  as  related  to  the  needs  of  the  human 
spirit ; — but  not  otherwise  : — not  a  span  beyond  this 
limit  has  ever  been  attained. 

"Do  not  I  fill  heaven  and  earth?  saith  the  Lord.  Can 
an\  hide  himself  in  secret  places  that  I  shall  not  see 
him  ?  Am  I  a  God  nigh  at  hand,  and  not  a  God  afar 
otf  ?"  We  may  read  the  139th  Psalm  throughout,  and 
be  convinced  that  what  is  inconceivable  as  an  abstrac- 
tion, or  as  an  axiom  in  speculative  theism,  has,  by  the 
Hebrew  wiiters,  been  firmly  lodged  in  the  beliefs  of  men 
in   the  only  mcde  in  which  such  a  lodgment  could  be 


HEBREW    POETRY.  21 

possible.  Tliis  element  of  tlie  Intinite  iiiuls  a  eoaleseeiit 
surface — a  point  of  adhesion  in  the  individual  eonseious- 
ness ;  a  consciousness  towards  God  whicli  removes  all 
other  beings  from  our  view,  and  which  leaves  us,  each 
for  himself,  alone  with  his  Creator  and  Judge. 

In  the  place  of  interminable  and  abstruse  definitions 
— defining  nothing,  propounding  doubts  and  solving 
none — in  the  place  of  this  laborious  emptiness,  the 
Avriter  of  the  ode  above  referred  to  so  affirms  the  doc- 
trine of  the  onmiscience  and  the  omnipresence  of  God 
as  at  once  to  expand  our  belief  of  it  to  the  utmost,  and 
to  concentrate  it  also  upon  the  experiences  of  the  sj^iri- 
tual  life.  God  is  everywhere  present — in  the  vastness 
of  tiie  upper  heavens — in  the  remotest  I'ecesses  of  Sheol 
(not  Gehenna)  CA'ery  where,  to  the  utmost  borders  of  the 
material  universe  ;  but  these  affirmations  of  a  universal 
truth  are  advanced  in  apposition  to  a  truth  which  is 
more  aftecting,  or  which  is  of  more  intimate  concern- 
ment to  the  devout  spirit : — this  spirit,  its  faults,  its  ter- 
rors, its  aspirations;  and  this  animal  frame,  of  which  it 
is  the  tenant,  is  in  the  hand  of  God,  and  is  dei)endent 
upon  His  bounty,  and  is  cared  for  in  whatever  relates  to 
its  precarious  welfare^  and  thus  is  so  great  a  theme— 
the  Divine  Omniscience — brought  home  to  its  due  cul- 
mination in  an  outburst  of  religious  feeling :  "  How 
precious  also  are  thy  thoughts^ unto  me,  O  God!  how 
great  is  the  sum  of  them  !  If  I  should  count  them, 
they  are  more  in  number  than  the  sand  :  when  I  awake, 
I  am  still  with  Thee!" 

A  probleni  al)solutely  insolul)le,  as  an  abstraction, 
and  which  in  fact  is  not  susceptible  of  any  verlml 
enunciation  in  a  scientific  form,  is  that  of  the  Divine 
Eternity; — or,  as  we  are  wont  to  say — using  terms  to 


22  TPIE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


wliicli  peiliaps  fin  attemiatcd  meaning  may  be  attached 
— tlie  non-relationslii})  of  God  to  Time,  and  His  exist- 
ence otlierwise  tlian  tlirougb  successive  instants.  Tliis 
is  a  belief  Avliicli  the  liuman  mind  demands  as  a  neces- 
sary condition  of  religious  tbougbt,  and  of  which  it 
linds  the  need  at  every  step  of  the  way  in  systematic 
theism,  wliicli  yet  is  equally  inconceivable,  and  inex- 
pressible. In  the  Mosaic  Ode  (the  90th  Psalm)  the 
theistic  axiom  is  so  placed  in  apposition  with  the  brevity 
and  the  precarious  tenure  of  human  life  that  the  incon- 
ceivable belief  becomes,  in  a  measure,  conceivable,  just 
by  help  of  its  coalescence  with  an  element  of  every 
one's  sense  of  the  brevity  and  frailty  of  life.  So  it  is 
that  the  theology  and  the  human  consciousness  are 
made  to  constitute  a  one  article  of  belief  in  that  spiritual 
economy  under  which  man,  as  mortal,  is  in  trainhig  for 
immortality  ; — as  thus — "  Before  the  mountains  were 
brought  forth,  or  ever  Thou  liadst  formed  the  earth 
and  the  world,  even  from  everlasting  to  everlasting, 
Tliou  art  God."  But  now,  in  the  innnediate  context 
of  an  affirmation  which  approaches  the  abstract  style, 
there  is  found  what  serves  to  bring  the  higher  truth 
into  a  near-at-band  bearing  upon  tlie  vivid  experiences 
of  our  mortal  condition.  "Thou  turnest  man  to  de- 
struction, and  sayest,  Return,  ye  children  of  men  ;  for 
a  thousand  years  in  thy  sight  are  but  as  yesterday 
when  it  is  past,  and  as  a  watch  in  the  night."  Then 
there  is  conjoined  with  this  doctrine  a  cautionary  pro- 
vision against  the  oriental  error  of  so  musing  upon  vast 
theologic  conceptions  as  that  the  individual  man  forgets 
himself,  and  becomes  unconscious  of  his  own  spiritual 
condition.  It  is  not  so  with  the  writer  of  this  Psalm: — • 
"  Thou  hast  set  our  iniquities  before  Thee ;  our  secret 


HEBREW    POETRY.  23 

sins  ill  the  liiilit  of  Thy  countenuiK'e So  tcacli 

us  to  miniber  our  clays  that  wo  may  ai)[)ly  our  licarts 
untt)  wisdom." 

For  m  iking  sure  of  this  amalgamation  of  theologic 
elements  with  tliose  emotions  and  sentiments  that  con- 
stitute the  religious  life  there  is  found,  in  several  of  the 
Psalms,  a  formal  alternation  of  the  two  classes  of  utter- 
ances. An  instance  of  this  interchange  occurs  in  the 
147th  Psalm  just  above  referred  to;  for  in  this  Psalm, 
with  its  strophe  and  its  antistrophe,  there  is  first  a 
challenge  to  the  worship  of  God,  as  a  delightful  employ- 
ment— then  an  evoking  of  religious  national  sentiment — 
then  a  message  of  comfort  and  hope,  addressed  to  the 
destitute,  the  oppressed,  the  sorrowful ;  and  last,  there 
is  the  interwoven  theologic  element  in  affirmation  of  the 
Providence,  Power,  and  bounty  of  God ;  for  it  is  said 
of  Him  who  "  healeth  the  broken  in  heart,  and  bindeth 
up  their  wounds,"  that  "  He  telleth  the  number  of  the 
stars,  and  calleth  them  all  by  their  names ;  for  great  is 
our  Lord,  and  of  great  power : — His  understanding  is 
infinite." 

So  it  is  throughout  the  devotional  and  poetic  i)or- 
tions  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures,  that  the  theologic  and 
the  emotional  elements  are  counterpoised — not  as  if  the 
two  diverse  elements  might  be  logically  compacted  into 
a  scheme  of  theism  ;  nor  as  if  tliey  were  contradictory, 
the  one  of  the  other ;  but  they  are  so  placed  as  to  be 
counteractive,  the  one  of  the  other,  in  their  infiuence 
upon  the  human  spirit.  Lest  tlie  devout  affections 
should  pass  otf  into  a  feeble  sentimentalism  (as  it  is 
their  tendency  to  do)  there  is  conjoined  with  the  expres- 
sion of  ]»ious  emotion  some  reference  to  tliose  attributes 
of  the  Divine  Nature  which  inspire  awe  and  fear;  and 


24  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

again,  lest  the  meditation  of  infinite  power  and  purity 
f;liould  lead  the  way  (as  it  has  so  often  done)  into  pan- 
theistic mysticism,  the  wois]iii»pei-  is  quickly  reminded 
of  his  individual  frailty — his  dependence  and  his  unwor- 
thiness.  A  structure,  sim})le  in  its  principle,  and  in  its 
intention^  may  be  traced  throughout  these  Scriptures 
as  a  method  that  is  always  adhered  to,  whatever  those 
diversities  of  style  may  be  which  attach  to  the  writer — 
whether  it  be  Moses,  or  David,  or  one  of  the  later 
l)rophets. 

The  reading  and  hearing  of  the  Old  Testament  from 
the  earliest  childliood — at  home  and  in  church — in  these 
Bible-reading  lands,  has  brought  us  to  imagine  that  tlie 
belief  of  the  Personality  of  God — God,  the  Creatoi-,  the 
Fatl'.er  of  Sjurits — is  a  belief  which  all  men,  uidess 
argued  out  of  it  by  sophistry,  would  accept  spontane- 
ously. These  early  and  continuous  lessons  in  Bible 
learning  have  imbued  our  minds  with  the  conce})tion 
of  tlie  Infinite  Being — the  Creator  of  all  things,  who,  in 
making  man  in  His  own  likeness,  has  opened  for  us  a 
ground  of  intercourse — warranting,  on  our  part,  the 
assurance  that  He  with  whom  we  have  to  do  is  con- 
scious as  we  are  conscious,  and  that — so  far  as  the  finite 
may  resemble  the  Infinite,  He  is,  as  we  are — is  one  with 
us,  is  communionable,  and  is  oi)en  to  a  correspondence 
which  is  properly  likened  to  that  of  a  father  with  his 
children. 

But  now,  whether  we  look  abroad  in  antiquity — 
Asiatic  and  European — or  look  to  the  now  prevalent 
beliefs  of  eastern  races,  or  look  near  at  hand  to  recent 
schemes  of  metaphysic  theism,  we  must  admit  it  to  be 
true,  in  fact,  that  whatever  the  unsophisticated  instincts 
of  the  human  mind  (if  such  could  anywhere  be  found) 


HEBllEAV    POETKY.  25 


niiglit  [)roinpt  ineu  to  accept  and  profess,  their  actual 
dispositions — perverted  as  these  are — impel  them  to 
put,  in  the  pkice  of  this  belief,  either  a  sensuous  and 
debasing  polytheism,  or  a  vai)id  pantheism.  So  it  has 
been  in  all  time  past,  and  so  at  the  moment  now  pass- 
ing:— so  it  has  been  among  brutalized  troglodytes; — 
and  so  is  it  among  "  the  most  advanced  thinkers  "  of 
modern  literature. 

Always,  and  now,  it  is  true  that  the  Hebrew  writers 
stand  possessed  of  an  unrivalled  prerogative  as  the 
Teachers — not  merely  of  monotheism,  but  of  the  spirit- 
stirring  belief  of  God — as  near  to  man  by  the  nearness 
or  homogeneousness  of  the  moral  consciousness.  Xear 
to  us  is  He,  not  only  because  in  Him  "  we  live  and 
move  and  have  our  being,''  but  because  He — infinite  in 
power  and  intelligence — is  in  so  true  a  sense  one  with 
us  that  the  unabated  terms  of  human  emotion  are  a 
proper  and  genuine  medium  of  intercourse  between 
Him  and  ourselves. 

To  remove  this  Bible  belief  to  as  great  a  distance  as 
2)ossible  from  daily  life  and  feeling,  has  been  the  inten- 
tion of  all  superstitions,  whether  gay  or  terrific ;  and  it 
has  been  the  aim  also  of  abstract  speculation,  and,  not 
less  so,  of  Art  and  of  Poetry,  with  their  manifold  fas- 
cinations ;  and  therefore  it  is  that  the  Hebrew  Scriptures 
are  so  specially  distasteful  to  those  whose  convictions 
they  have  not  secured,  and  whose  faith  they  do  not 
command.  It  is  the  clearness — it  is  the  fulness — it  is 
the  unfaltering  decisiveness  of  the  Hebrew  writers,  from 
the  earliest  of  them  to  the  latest,  on  this  ground,  that 
constitutes  the  broad  characteristic  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment Scriptures,  when  brought  into  comparison  with 
any  other   literature — ancient  or    modern.      We  may 


26  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

reject  tlie  aiitliropoinorphic  symbolism  of  these  writings, 
as  repugnant  to  our  abstract  notions  of  tlie  Divine 
Nature ;  but  tliis  we  must  grant  to  be  their  distinction 
— namely,  a  uniform  consistency  hi  the  use  they  make 
of  the  vocabulary  of  human  sentiment,  passion,  emo- 
tion, so  as  to  bring  the  conception  of  the  Personal  God 
into  the  nearest  possible  alliance  with  the  human  con- 
sciousness, on  that  side  of  it  where  a  return  to  virtue,  if 
ever  it  is  brought  about,  must  take  j^lace.  God  is  near 
to  man — and  one  witli  him  for  his  recovery  to  loisdoni 
and  goodness.  The  instances  are  trite  ; — and  they  will 
occur  to  the  recollection  of  every  Bible  reader  ;  yet  let 
one  or  two  be  here  adduced. 

The  Hebrew  j^rophet,  and  poet,  meets  and  satisfies 
the  fii-st  rccpiirement  of  the  awakened  human  spirit, 
which  is  an  assured  communion  with  God  on  terms  of 
hopefulness  and  amity,  as  well  as  of  the  profoundest 
awe,  and  of  unaffected  humiliation.  And  this  assurance 
is  so  conveyed  as  shall  intimately  blend  the  highest 
tl)eistic  conceptions  with  the  health-giving  conscious- 
ness of  unmerited  favour. — "  Thus  saitli  the  High  and 
Lofty  One  that  inhabiteth  eternity,  whose  name  is 
Holy :  I  dwell  in  the  high  and  lioly  place,  with  him  also 
that  is  of  a  contrite  and  humble  spirit,  to  I'cvive  the 
spirit  of  the  humble,  and  to  revive  the  heart  of  the  con- 
trite ones  :  for  I  will  not  contend  for  ever,  neither  will  I 
be  always  wrath ;  for  the  spirit  should  fail  before  me, 
and  the  souls  which  I  have  made." 

The  same  conditions  are  observed — and  they  should 
be  noted — in  this  parallel  passage — "  Thus  saith  the 
Lord,  The  heaven  is  my  throne,  and  the  earth  is  my 
footstool.  Where  is  the  house  that  ye  build  me  ?  and 
where  is  the  place  of  my  rest  ?     For  all  these  things 


HEBREW    POETRY  27 

hath  my  liaiul  made;  and  all  these  tilings  have  been, 
saith  the  Lord  :  but  to  this  man  will  I  look,  even  to 
him  that  is  poor  and  of  a  conti'ite  spirit,  and  that  trem- 
bleth  at  my  word." 

Tiiese  familiar  passages  are  illustrations,  and  they  are 
demonstrations,  of  that  mode  of  teaclnng  "  the  tilings 
of  God"  which  distinguishes  the  Hebrew  Scriptures 
from  all  other  writings — professedly  religious — ancient 
or  modern  (those  of  course  excepted  which  follow  this 
same  guidance).  The  terms  are  symbolic,  or  figurative 
purely ;  and  the  Divine  attributes  are  not  otherwise 
affirmed  than  in  their  bearing  upon  the  spiritual  welfare 
of  that  one  class  of  minds  that  needs,  and  that  will 
rightly  avail  itself  of,  this  kind  of  teaching.  To  minds 
of  the  metaphysic  class  there  is  no  conveyance  of  the- 
istic  axioms : — to  minds  of  the  captious  temperament 
there  is  none  : — to  the  sensual  and  sordid,  or  the  contu- 
macious and  impious,  there  is  none.  These  passages 
are  as  a  stream  of  the  effulgence  of  the  upper  heavens, 
sent  down  through  an  aperture  in  a  dense  cloud,  to  rest 
with  a  life-giving  power  of  light  and  heat  upon  the 
dwelling  of  the  humble  worshipper.  Whether  this 
humble  worshipper  be  one  who  turns  the  soil  for  his 
daily  bread,  or  be  the  occupant  of  a  professor's  chair,  it 
shall  be  the  same  theology  that  he  hence  derives  :  the 
former  will  not  think  to  ask — and  the  latter  will  be 
better  trained  than  to  ask — how  it  is  that  the  Omni- 
present can  be  said,  either  to  be  seated  on  a  throne  in 
an  upper  heaven,  or  to  make  earth  11  is  footstool : — 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other  will  take  offence  at  the 
solecism  of  "  inhabiting  eternity."  A  solecism  if  it  be  ; 
— nevertheless  it  is  probable  that  no  compact  of  words 
coming  within    the   range  of  language  has   better   con- 


28  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

veycd   than  this   does   the   inconceivable   idea  of  the 
Divine  Existence — irrespective  of  Time. 

Biblical  utterances  of  the  first  truths  in  Theology- 
possess  the  grandeur  of  the  loftiest  poetry,  as  well  as 
a  rhythmical  or  artificial  structure ;  and  they  hold  off 
from  entanglement  with  metaphysic  perplexities — was 
it  because  the  writers  were  men  of  a  nation  incapable 
of  abstract  thought  ?  If  this  were  granted,  then,  on 
merely  natural  principles,  we  ought  to  find  them  some- 
times forgetful  of  their  purpose  as  religious  teachers, 
while  they  wander  forth,  in  oriental  style,  upon  grounds 
of  gorgeous  imagination.  Never  do  they  do  this. 
Poets  as  they  were  in  soul,  and  in  phrase  too,  they  are 
strictly  mindful  of  their  function  as  teachers  of  spiritual 
and  ethical  principles.  David  says — as  our  version  has 
it — "The  Lord  is  in  His  holy  temple;  the  Lord's  throne 
is  in  heaven  :  His  eyes  behold.  His  eyelids  try  the 
children  of  men."  Four  affirmations  meet  us  within  the 
compass  of  these  few  words,  and  each  of  them  has  a 
specific  meaning — inviting  the  religious  teacher  to  open 
it  out,  and  bring  it  to  bear  with  eifect  upon  the  religious 
life ;  and  in  the  third  and  the  fourth  of  these  clauses  a 
meaning  of  peculiar  significance  is  conveyed,  Avhich, 
mstead  of  a  vague  averment  of  the  Divine  omniscience, 
turns  this  doctrine  in  upon  the  conscience  with  a  burning 
intensity.  Xo  phrases  could  more  vividly  than  do  these, 
give  force  to  the  concei^tion  of  tliis  critical  observation 
of  the  characters  and  conduct  of  men — singly  ;  for  in 
relation  to  a  process  of  moral  discipline.  He  who  is  the 
Father  of  spirits  "  beholds  the  children  of  men,  and 
His  eyelids  try  them."  It  is  true  of  the  Creator,  that 
He  "  knoweth  all  the  fowls  of  the  mountains,  and  the 
wild  beasts  of  the  forest,   and  that  the  cattle  upon  a 


HEBKEW    POETRY.  29 

tliousniid  bills  are  His;"  but  it  is  a  Irutli  of  anolliur 
order  that  is  affirmed — it  is  a  truth  penetrative  of  the 
conscience — it  is  a  truth,  not  metaphysic  or  poetic,  but 
sternly  ethical,  that  is  here  presented  in  metaphor.  A 
keen  scrutiny  of  the  concealed  motives  and  of  the 
undeveloped  tendencies  of  the  heart  on  the  part  of  One 
who  is  firmly-purposed,  and  who  is  severely  exact  in  his 
observation  of  conduct  is  conveyed  in  these  expressions  : 
— the  dropping  of  the  eyelid  for  the  purpose  of  reflec- 
tive scrutiny  indicates  a  determination  to  look  through 
disguises,  and  rightfully  to  interpret  whatever  may  wear 
a  semblance  of  falseness.  This  is  a  truth  to  be  thought 
of  by  those  Avho  accustom  themselves  to  repeat  the 
prater,  "  Search  me  and  try  me,  and  see  what  evil 
way  there  is  in  me :"  it  is  a  truth  for  those  who  sub- 
mit themselves  willingly  to  the  severest  conditions  of 
the  spiritual  discipline.  As  for  men  of  another  class, 
who  desire  no  such  schooling,  it  is  said  of  them  that — 
"The  Lord  knoweth  them  afar  oflf" — what  they  are  it 
needs  no  careful  observation  to  discern. 

Parallel  instances  are  abundant  in  the  Psalms,  and 
throughout  the  proj^hetic  books  ;  but  this  is  not  all 
that  should  be  said,  for  instances  of  a  contrary  kind, 
nowhere  occur.  The  Hebrew  writers,  in  long  series, 
not  only  teach  the  same  theology,  but  they  teach  it 
always,  and  only  so,  in  metaphoric  terms;  and  more 
than  this — it  is  always  under  the  condition  of  con- 
necting their  affirmations  of  the  Divine  attributes  with 
the  i)urposes  and  the  needs  of  the  spiritual  training  of 
the  individual  soul. 

There  is  before  us  then  a  method — invariably  adhered 
to  ; — there  is  a  rule  that  is  never  violated  ;  but  it  is  a 
method  and  a  rule  of  which  we  become  cognizant  only 


30  THE    SPIKIT    OF    THE 


wlicu  'sve  look  back  from  the  latest  to  the  earliest  of  a 
long  series  of  writers,  each  of  whom  has  his  own  manner, 
his  individual  characteristic  style.  Not  one  in  the  series 
gives  evidence  of  his  personal  consciousness  of  the  law 
Avhich,  nevertheless,  he  is  silently  obeying ;  and  it  is  a 
law  which  is  far  from  obvious  in  itself,  and  it  is  by  no 
means  such  as  would  spontaneously  offer  itself,  even  to 
minds  of  the  highest  order ;  much  less  to  the  fervent 
and  the  inartificial.  We — of  this  late  age — trained 
as  we  are  in,  and  lamiliar  Avith,  the  habitudes  and  the 
phrases  of  abstract  thought,  easily  recognize  the  princi- 
ple which  gives  continuity  to  the  writings  of  the  Old 
Testament  ;  and  we  are  able  to  put  an  abstraction  of 
this  kind  into  words.  But  it  is  certain  that  no  such 
enunciation  of  an  occult  lawMvould  have  been  intelligible 
to  the  writers  themselves,  who  nevertheless,  each  in  his 
turn,  implicitly  and  always  conforms  himself  to  it. 
Here  indeed — as  throughout  the  material  world — there 
is  Design — there  is  an  intention  which  gives  coherence 
to  a  complicity  of  parts ;  but  it  is — as  in  the  material 
world,  so  here — an  intention  which  was  unperceived 
and  unthought  of,  while  it  was  in  course  of  execution. 


CHAPTER    II. 

CO^IMIXTURE  OF  THE  DIVINE  AND    THE   HUMAN   ELEMENTS 
IN   THE   HEBREW   POETIC    SCRIPTURES. 

The  mere  use  of  any  such  phrase  as  this — The  He- 
brew Poetry,  or  the  speaking  of  the  Prophets  as  Poets 
— is  likely  to  give  alarm  to  Bible  readers  of  a  certain 
class,  Avho  will  think  that,  m  bringing  the  mspired 
writers  under  any  such  treatment  as  that  which  these 
phrases  seem  to  imply,  we  are  forgetting  their  higher 
claims,  and  thus  disparage  them  as  the  Bearers  of  a  mes- 
sage immediately  from  God  to  men. 

Alarms  of  this  kind  arise,  either  from  a  misappre- 
hension of  the  facts  before  us ;  or  from  absolute  ignor- 
ance of  those  facts  ;  or,  it  may  be,  from  some  invete- 
rate confusion,  attaching  to  our  modes  of  thinking  on 
religious  subjects.  The  remedy  must  be  found  in  the 
removal  of  this  ignorance — in  the  clearing  up  of  these 
confusions,  and  especially — and  most  of  all — in  the 
attainment  of  a  thorough  and  deep-felt  confidence  in 
the  Divine  origination  and  authority  of  the  Canonical 
writings.  Those  religions  alarms  or  jealousies  which 
impede  the  U-qq  course  of  thought  on  this  ground — if 
they  do  not  spring  from  stolid  and  incurable  i)rejudices, 
are  yet  the  indication  of  a  shaken  and  variabk'  belief  in 
the  Bible,  as  the  medium  of  a  sn])ernatural  Kevelation. 

It  will  be  in  no  dread  of  the  imputation  of  unbelief 
that  we  enter  u})on  the  field  now  in  view.     A  tremulous 


82  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

tread  on  this  ground  would  be  sure  sign,  either  of  incer- 
titude as  to  first  principles,  or  of  a  treasonable  coward- 
ice ;  and  probably  of  both :  we  here  dischiini  the  one  as 
well  as  the  otber  of  these  sinister  restraints.  If  indeed 
there  be  dangers  on  our  jmthway,  let  them  be  manfully 
encountered,  and  they  will  disappear,  as  do  always  the 
phantoms  of  superstition  when  boldly  looked  at.  The 
risks  to  faith  that  haunt  this  subject  are  factitious,  and 
have  had  their  origin  in  an  ill-judged  modern  eagerness 
to  conform  our  doctrine  of  Inspiration  to  the  arbitrary 
conditions  of  a  logical  or  pseudo-scientific  system.-  No 
such  attempt  can  ever  be  successful ;  but  the  restless 
and  often  renewed  endeavour  to  eftect  a  purpose  of  this 
kind  breeds  perplexities — it  feeds  a  bootless  controversy, 
and  it  furnishes  disbelief  with  its  only  effective  weapons. 
If  unwarranted  and  unwarrantable  modern  schemes, 
as  to  the  nature  and  the  extent  of  Inspiration,  are  put 
out  of  view,  and  if  interminable  argumentation  be  cut 
short,  then  the  Bible  will  return  to  its  i)lace  of  power 
and  of  benign  authority,  yielding  to  us  daily  its  inesti- 
mable treasures  of  instruction,  admonition,  and  comfort ; 
but  so  long  as  we  adhere  to  a  theory  of  Inspiration, 
Avhether  it  be  of  better  quality  or  of  worse,  we  shall  be 
open  to  disturbance  from  the  inroads  of  textual  and  his- 
torical criticism,  and  shall  be  haunted  by  the  grim  suspi- 
cion that  the  Scriptures  are  confusedly  constituted  of 
heterogeneous  elements — some  of  which  are  purely 
divine,  while  some  are  merely  human  :  or  we  shall  accept 
the  comfortless  hypothesis  that  the  divine  substance  in 
Holy  Scripture  has  become  flawed  or  intergrained  with 
the  grit  and  debris  of  human  inadvertence,  accident, 
ignorance,  or  evil  intention  ;  and  that  thus  the  Bible  is 
a  conglomerate    of  materials,  precious   and  worthless. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  83 

Under  the  inlliieiice  of  si^jpositions  of  tliis  kind,  ;ni<l  in 
|troportion  to  our  personal  candour  and  intelligence,  we 
shall  be  askhig  aid  from  any  who  can  yield  it,  to  inform 
us,  at  every  section,  and  verse,  and  line,  wliat  it  is  that 
we  may  accept  as  "  from  above,"  and  what  it  is  that 
should  be  rejected  as  "from  men."  A  Bible-reading 
method  less  cumbrous  than  this,  and  less  comfortless  too, 
and  less  embarrassing,  is  surely  attainable. 

When  we  accept  a  mass  of  writings  as  a  gift  from 
God,  in  a  sense  peculiar  to  themselves,  and  whicli  is  their 
dlsthiction^  as  compared  with  all  other  human  composi- 
tions, we  do  so  on  grounds  which  we  think  to  be  sutli- 
cient  and  conclusive.  Already  therefore  we  have  given 
in  our  submission  to  the  Book,  or  to  the  collection  of 
books,  which  we  are  willing  to  regard  as  rightfully 
determinative  of  our  religious  belief,  and  as  regulative 
of  our  conduct  and  temper.  If  it  be  so,  then  no  other, 
or  middle  course  can,  consistently  with  undoubted  facts, 
be  taken  than  this ;  w^e  must  bring  ourselves  to  think  of 
these  writings  as,  in  one  sense,  tcholbj  human  j  and  read 
them  as  if  they  were  nothing  more  than  human  ;  and, 
in  another  sense,  as  icholly  divine  ;  and  must  i-ead  them 
as  if  they  were  in  no  sense  less  than  divine. 

Endless  confusions,  interminable  questionings,  come 
from  the  mitigative  supposition — That,  in  any  given 
portion,  i)age,  or  paragrai)h,  certain  expressions,  orsejia- 
rate  clauses,  or  single  words — here  five  words,  and  theie 
seven  words,  are  of  human  origination  ;  while  other 
five  words,  or  seven,  or  other  clauses  or  sentences  or 
l^aragraphs,  are  from  heaven  ;  and  that  thus  a  perpetual 
caution  or  marginal  indication  is  needed,  by  aid  of  whicli 
we  may,  from  line  to  line,  discriminate  the  one  species 
of  writing  from  the  other — sifting  the  particles  of  gold 

2^<- 


3i  TnE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

fi'om  out  of  the  sand  and  clay  in  the  midst  of  which  we 
find  them.  It  is  manifest  that  the  better  instructed  a 
IVible  reader  may  he,  and  tlie  more  intelHgent  and  con- 
scientious he  is,  so  mucli  the  deeper,  and  so  much  the 
more  frequent  will  be  his  perplexities,  and  so  much  the 
less  comfort  and  edification  will  he  draw  from  his  Bible 
daily:  it  will  be  so  if  a  notion  of  this  kind  has  lodged 
itself  within  him. 

That  in  Holy  Scripture  which  is  from  above  is  an 
element  over  and  beyond,  and  beside,  the  medium  of  its 
conveyance  to  us,  although  never  separated  therefrom. 
That  which  we  find,  and  which  "  finds  us"  also,  is  not 
the  parchment  and  the  ink,  nor  is  it  the  writing,  nor  is 
it  the  Hebrew  vocables  and  phrases,  nor  is  it  the  gi'ara- 
matical  modes  of  an  ancient  language  ;  nor  is  it  this  or 
that  style  of  writing,  prosaic  or  poetic,  or  abstract  or 
symbolical ;  for  as  to  any  of  these  incidents  or  modes  of 
conveyance,  they  might  be  exchanged  for  some  other 
mode,  without  detriment  to  the  divine  element — the 
ulterior  intention,  which  is  so  conveyed.  We  all  readily 
accept  any,  or  several  of  these  substitutions — and  we 
moderns  necessarily  do  so — whenever  \ve  take  into  our 
hands  what  we  have  reason  to  think  is  a  trustworthy 
translation.  It  is  not  even  the  most  accomplished  He- 
braist of  modern  times  (whoever  he  may  be)  that  is 
exempted  from  the  necessity  of  taking,  from  out  of  his 
Hebrew  Bible,  a  meaning — as  to  single  words,  and  as  to 
combinations  of  words — which  is  only  a  substitute  for 
the  primitive  meaning  intended  to  be  conveyed  by  the 
Hebrew  writer  to  the  men  of  his  times.  Thouglit, 
enibodied  in  words,  or  in  other  arbitrary  signs,  and 
addressed  by  one  human  mind  to  another  human  mind, 
or  by  the  Divme  mind  to  the  human  mind,  is  subjected 


HEBREW    POETRY.  35 

to  coiulitioiis  wliit'li  belong  to,  or  wliifli  spring  from, 
tlio  limitations  of  the  recipient  mind.  The  question  is 
not  of  this  sort,  namely,  whether  Thought  or  Feeling 
might  not  be  conveyed  from  mind  to  mind  with  uncon- 
ditioned purity,  in  some  occult  mode  of  innnediate  spi- 
ritual communion.  This  niay  well  be  supposed,  and,  as 
we  are  bound  to  believe  it  i)Ossible,  it  may  be  accepted 
as  a  truth,  and  as  a  truth  that  has  a  deep  meaning  in 
Religion. 

But  the  position  now  assumed  is  this — that  Thought 
or  Feeling,  lalien  embodied  in  language^  is,  to  its  whole 
extent  of  meaning,  necessarily  conditioned,  as  well  by 
the  established  laws  of  language,  as  by  all  those  inciden- 
tal iniluences  which  affect  its  value  and  import,  in 
traversing  the  chasms  of  Time.  Statements  of  this 
kind  are  open  to  misap})reliensions  from  various  sources, 
and  will  not  fail  to  awaken  debate.  So  far  as  such 
inisa])prehensions  may  be  precluded,  this  will  best  be 
done  in  submitting  actual  instances  to  the  reader's  con- 
sideration. 

Take,  as  an  instance — one  among  many  that  are 
equally  pertinent  to  our  purpose, — the  Twenty-third 
Psalm.  This  is  an  ode  which  for  beauty  of  sentiment 
is  not  to  be  matched  in  the  circuit  of  all  literature. 
In  its  way  down  through  three  thousand  years,  or 
more,  this  Psalm  has  penetrated  to  the  depths  of  mil- 
lions of  hearts — it  has  gladdened  homes  of  destitu- 
tion and  discomfort — it  has  whispered  hope  and  joy 
amid  tears  to  the  utterly  solitary  and  forsaken,  whose 
only  refuge  was  in  Heaven.  B(!yond  all  range  of  pro- 
bable calculation  have  these  dozen  lines  impaited  a 
power  of  endurance  under  sufi'ering,  and  strength  in 
feebleness,  and  have  kejtt  alive  the  flickering  ilame  of 


Si]  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

religious  feoling  in  hearts  that  were  nigh  to  despair. 
The  divine  element  lierein  embodied  has  given  proof, 
millions  of  times  repeated,  of  its  reality,  and  of  its  effi- 
cacy, as  a  fonmcla  of  tranquil  trust  in  God,  and  of  a 
grateful  sense  of  His  goodness,  which  all  who  do  trust 
in  Ilim  may  use  for  themselves,  and  use  it  until  it  lias 
become  assimilated  to  their  own  habitual  feelings.  But 
this  process  of  assimilation  can  take  place  only  on  the 
ground  of  certain  assumptions,  such  as  tliese — It  is  not 
enough  that  we  read,  and  often  repeat  this  composition 
a]?provm(jly ;  or  that  we  regard  it  as  an  utterance  ot 
proper  religious  sentiments :  this  is  quite  true  ;  but  this 
is  not  enough :  this  Psalm  will  not  be  available  for  its 
intended  purpose  unless  these  expressions  of  trust  in 
the  divine  beneficence  be  accepted  as  warrantable. 
May  not  this  confident  belief  in  God  as  the  gracious 
Shepherd  of  souls  be  a  vain  presumption,  never  real- 
ized ? — May  it  not  be  an  illusion  of  self  love  ?  Not  so 
— for  we  have  already  accepted  the  Psalms,  of  which 
this  is  one,  as  portions  of  that  authentic  Holy  Scrip- 
ture wliich  has  been  given  us  from  above.  Thus  it 
is,  therefore,  that  throughout  all  time  past,  and  all 
time  to  come,  this  Psalm  has  possessed,  and  will  pos- 
sess, a  life-giving  viilue  toward  those  who  receive  it, 
and  whose  own  path  in  life  is  such  as  life's  path  most 
often  is. 

Whoever  has  attained  to,  or  has  acquired  this  tho- 
rough persuasion  of  the  reality  of  Holy  Scripture,  as 
given  of  God,  in  a  sense  absolutely  peculiar  to  itself, 
will  stand  exempt — or  he  may  so  stand  exempt,  from 
alarms  and  suspicions,  as  if  criticism,  whether  textual 
or  historical,  miglit  rob  hhn  of  his  treasure,  or  might 
diminish  its  value  to  him.     In  its  relation  to  the  reli- 


HEBREW    POETRY.  37 

gioiis  life,  and  to  the  liealth  of  the  soul,  this  Psalm  is 
wJwlly  divine  ;  and  so  every  particle  of  it  is  fraught 
with  the  life-giving  energy  ;  nor  need  religious  persons 
— or  more  than  one  in  ten  thousand  of  such  persons — 
concern  themselves  in  any  way  with  any  questionings 
or  considerations  that  attach  to  it  as  a  human  com- 
position. 

But  the  Psalm  now  in  view  is  also  wholly  human, 
as  it  is  also  wholly  divine  in  another  sense — every 
particle  of  it  being  of  the  same  stamp  as  otlier  hu- 
man compositions ;  and  therefore  it  may  be  spoken  of, 
and  it  may  be  treated,  and  analysed,  and  commented 
upon,  with  intelligent  freedom,  even  as  we  treat,  ana- 
lyse, and  expound,  whatever  else  has  come  down  to  us 
of  ancient  literature.  Let  it  be  remembered  that  nei- 
ther in  relation  to  classic  literature,  nor  to  sacred  lite- 
rature, does  fi'ee  criticism  include  any  right  or  power 
to  alter  the  text,  or  to  amend  it  at  our  i)leasure.  The 
text  of  ancient  writings,  when  once  duly  ascertained, 
is  as  fixed  and  as  unalterable  as  are  the  constellations 
of  the  heavens ;  and  so  it  is  that  the  Canon  of  Scrip- 
ture, if  it  be  compared  with  the  inconstancy  and  va- 
riableness of  any  otlier  embodiment  of  religious  belief 
or  feeling,  is  a  sure  foundation — abiding  the  same 
throughout  all  time  to  the  world's  end. 

It  is  not  only  the  material  writing — and  the  Hebrew 
Avords  and  phrases  of  this  Psalm,  or  of  any  other  Psalm 
— portions  as  they  are  of  the  collocpiial  medium  of  an 
ancient  people,  that  are  liable  to  the  ordinary  condi- 
tions of  written  language;  for  further  tiian  this  it  must 
be  granted,  that,  as  the  metrical  structure  of  the  Ode  is 
liighly  artificial,  those  rules  of  construction  to  which  it 
conforms  itsjlf  may  be  sr.id  to  over-ride  the  pure  con- 


THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


veyance  of  the  tlionght ; — metre  ruling  words  and 
syllables.  It  v.'as  by  these  artificial  adaptations  to  the 
ear  and  memory  of  the  people  to  whom,  at  the  first,  the 
composition  was  confided,  it  was  rendered  available,  in 
the  best  manner,  for  the  purposes  of  the  religious  life. 
Yet  this  is  not  all  that  needs  to  be  said  in  taking  this  view 
of  the  instance  before  us.  Every  phrase  and  allusion  in 
this  ode  is  metaphoric — nothing  is  literal ;  the  Lord  is — 
the  Shepherd  of  souls;  and  there  are  the  green  pastures — 
the  still  waters — the  paths  of  righteousness — the  valley 
of  the  shadow  of  death — the  rod  and  the  staff — the 
table  })repared — the  anointing  oil — the  overfull  cup — 
and  that  House  of  the  Lord  which  is  an  everlasting 
abode.  But  figures  and  symbols  are  incidents  of  the 
human  mind — they  are  adaptations  to  its  limits — they 
are  the  best  that  can  he  done^  in  regard  to  the  things  ot 
the  spiritual  life.  Let  us  speak  with  reverence — Divixe 
Thought  is  not  conditioned  in  any  manner  ;  certainly 
not  by  metaphor  or  symbol. 

There  is  yet  a  step  further  that  should  be  taken  in 
considering  this  Psalm  as  a  human  composition — and  it 
is  so  with  other  Psalms,  still  more  decisively  than  with 
this,  for  it  gives  expression  to  religious  sentiments  which 
belong  to  the  earlier  stage  of  a  progressive  development 
of  the  si)i ritual  life.  The  bright  idea  of  earthly  well- 
hehig  pervades  the  Old  Testament  Scri})tures  ;  and  this 
worldly  sunshine  is  their  distinction,  as  compared  with 
the  New  Testament ;  but  then  there  are  many  cognate 
ideas  which  properly  come  into  their  places,  around 
the  terrestrial  idea.  If  earthly  weal — if  an  overrunning 
cup — if  security  and  continuance,  belong  to  the  centre- 
thought,  then,  by  necessity,  the  antithetic  ideas — not 
only  of  want  and  jjain,  but  of  whatever  ill  an  enemy 


HEBREW    POETRY.  39 

may  do,  or  may  iiilend — must  come  in,  to  cncirck', 
or  beleaguer  the  taberuaele  of  those  Avhom  God  has 
blessed.  Thus,  therefore,  does  the  Psalmist  liere  give 
expressiou  to  feelings  which  were  i)roper,  indeed,  to 
that  time,  but  are  less  proper  to  this  time  :  "  Thou 
preparest  a  table  before  me  in  the  presence  of  my 
enemies."  A  feeling  is  here  indicated  which  was 
of  th.at  age,  and  which  was  approvable  then,  although 
it  has  been  superseded  since  by  sentiments  of  a  higher 
order,  and  which  draw  their  reason  from  the  substitu- 
tion of  future  for  present  good. 

This  sejKirahleness  of  the  Divine  element  from  the 
human  element  throughout  the  Inspired  writings,  the 
understanding  of  which  is  highly  important,  Avill  make 
itself  perspicuous  in  giving  attention  to  two  or  three 
instances  of  different  kinds. 

Turn  to  the  two  astronomic  Psalms — the  eighth,  and 
the  nineteenth  (its  exordium).  Quite  unmatched  are 
these  Odes  as  human  compositions : — the  soul  of  the 
loftiest  poetry  is  in  them.  Figurative  they  are  in 
every  phrase  ;  and  they  are  so  manifestly  figurative  in 
Avhat  is  affirmed  concerning  the  celestial  framework  that 
they  stand  exempt,  in  the  judgment  of  reasonable  criti- 
cism, on  the  one  hand  from  the  childish  literal  render- 
ings of  superstition  ;  and  on  the  otlier  hand  from  the 
nugatory  cai)tiousness  of  rationalism.  A  magnificent 
image  is  that  of  the  sun  coming  forth  refreshed  each 
morning  anew  from  his  pavilion,  and  rejoicing  as  a 
strong  man  to  run  a  race !  Frivolous  is  the  superstition 
Avhich  supposes  that  an  astronomic  verity  is  couched  in 
these  figures,  and  that  thus  the  Avarranty  of  Inspira- 
tion is  pledged  to  what  is  untrue  in  nature.  Equally 
frivolous  is  the  criticism  which  catches  at  this  supersti- 


40  THE    SPIKIT    OF    THE 

tion,  aiul  on  the  groiiiul  of  it  labours  to  prove  that  the 
Bible  takes  part  with  the  Ptolemaic  theory,  and  rejects 
the  modern  astronomy !  Be  it  so  that  David's  own 
conception  of  the  celestial  system  might  be  of  the 
former  sort,  and  that  he  would  have  marvelled  at  the 
latter  ;  but,  as  an  inspired  writer,  he  no  more  affirms 
the  Ptolemaic  astronomy,  than  lie  affirms  that  tlie  sun 
— a  giant — comes  forth  from  a  tent  every  morning. 

Look  to  the  Eighth  Psalm,  and  estimate  its  theologic 
value — its  ifispired  import — by  reading  it  as  a  bold 
contradiction  of  errors  all  around  it — the  dreams  of 
Buddhism — the  fables  of  Brahminism — the  Atheism 
of  the  Greek  Philosophy,  and  the  malign  Atheism  of 
our  modern  metaphysics.  Within  the  compass  of  these 
nine  verses  the  celestial  and  the  terrestrial  systems,  and 
the  human  economy  are  not  only  poetically  set  forth  ; 
but  they  are  truly  reported  of^  as  the  three  stand  related 
to  Religious  Belief,  and  to  Religious  Feeling.  Grant 
it,  that  when  David  the  Poet  brings  into  conjunction 
"  the  moon  and  the  stars,"  he  thought  of  them,  as  to 
their  respective  bulks  and  importance,  not  according  to 
the  teaching  of  Galileo  ;  and  yet,  notwithstanding  this 
misconception,  which  itself  has  no  bearing  whatever 
upon  his  function  as  an  inspired  writer,  he  so  writes 
concerning  the  Universe — material  and  immaterial,  as 
none  but  Hebrew  prophets  have  ever  written  of  either. 
What  are  the  facts  ?  The  astronomies  of  Oriental  sages 
and  of  Grecian  ^philosophers  are  well-nigh  forgotten  ; 
but  David's  astronomy  lives,  and  it  will  ever  live ;  for 
it  is  true  to  all  eternity. 

A  sample  of  another  kind  is  presented  in  the  Fiftieth 
Psalm.  This  Ode,  sublime  in  its  imagery  and  its  scenic 
breadth  of  conception,  is  a  canon  of  the  relationship 


HEBREW    POETRY.  41 


of  iiu'ii,  as  the  prolbsscc]  worslii}>pers  of  Gotl,  toward 
Ilini  wlio  spurns  from  llis  altar  tlie  liypocrite  and  tlie 
proHig-ate  and  the  malignant,  but  invites  the  sincere 
and  the  humhle  to  His  presence,  on  terms  of  favour. 
This  Psalm  is  sternly  moral  in  its  tone  : — it  is  anti- 
ritualistic — if  rites  are  thought  of  as  substitutes  for 
virtue  ;  and  moreover,  by  the  singularity  of  its  phrases 
in  three  instances,  it  makes  its  way  with  anatomic 
keenness  through  the  surface  to  the  conscience  of  those 
who  are  easily  content  with  themselves,  so  long  as  they 
keep  clear  of  overt  acts  of  sin.  The  man  who  is  here 
threatened  with  a  vengeance  from  which  there  will  be 
no  escape  {v.  22)  is  not  himself  perchance  the  thief; 
but  he  is  one  whose  raoial  consciousness  is  of  the  same 
order,  and  who  would  do  the  same — opportunity  favour- 
ing. He  is  not  himself  perchance  the  adulterer ;  but 
he  is  one  who,  being  impure  in  heart,  is  ready  for 
guilt,  and  pleases  liimself  with  the  thought  of  it.  In- 
debted for  his  virtue  entirely  to  external  restraints,  he 
thinks  liimself  free  to  give  vent  to  censorious  language, 
and  to  shed  the  Acnom  of  his  tongue  upon  those  who 
are  nearest  to  him  in  blood.  Here,  then,  there  is  not 
merely  a  protest  in  behalf  of  virtue,  but  it  is  a  deep- 
gohig  commixture  of  s^Hritual  and  ethical  truth,  with 
a  promise  of  grace  for  the  condign  ;  it  is  a  presentation 
of  justice  and  of  favour : — it  is  a  disciimination  of 
motives  and  characters  also  : — it  is  such  that  it  vindi- 
cates its  own  Divine  origination  in  the  court  of  every 
human  conscience.  In  this  Psalm  it  is  the  voice  of  God 
we  hear  ;  for  man  has  never  spoken  in  any  such  manner 
as  this  to  his  fellows. 

Let  it  be  asked,   then,   in  what  manner  the  Divine 
and  the  liuman  elements,  i/i  this  one  instance^  sustain 


4:2  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


each  other  tliroughout  all  time  ?  In  tens  of  thousands 
of  eo])ies  we  possess  this  litei-ary  monument ;  and  it  is 
an  imperishable  and  an  unalterable  document :  it  is 
liable  to  no  decay  or  damage;  and  it  may  yet  endure 
ages  more  than  can  be  numbered  :  nothing  on  earth's 
surface  is  more  safe  from  destruction  :  none  can  ever 
pretend  to  have  authority  to*  substitute  one  word  for 
another  word ;  or  to  erase  a  letter.  Here,  then,  we 
take  our  hold  upon  a  rock.  Human  opinion,  in  matters 
of  religion,  sways  this  way  and  that  way,  from  age 
to  age  ;  but  it  is  ever  and  anew  brought  back  to  its 
point  of  fixedness  in  the  unalterable  text  of  the  He- 
bi-ew  Scriptures.  Upon  this  Fiftieth  Psalm  Esra  and 
the  Rabbis  of  his  school  commented  at  their  best,  in 
that  age  when  Anaximander,  Anaxagoras,  Thales,  and 
their  disciples,  were  theorising  to  little  purpose  con- 
cerning "the  Infinite;''  and  were  .in  debate  on  the 
question  whether  it  is  matter  or  mind  that  is  "  the 
eternal  principle,"  and  the  cause  of  all  things  : — a  ques- 
tion unsettled  as  yet  among  our  "  profoundest  think- 
ers.'' Upon  this  Psalm,  with  its  bold,  outspoken,  and 
determinate  morality,  its  grandeur  and  its  j^ower,  the 
Rabbi  of  a  later  and  sophisticated  time  commented  also, 
weaving  around  it  the  fine  silk  of  his  casuistry,  and 
labouring  hard  in  his  work  of  screening  the  then-abused 
conscience  of  liis  race  from  its  force ;  so  "  making 
void  the  Word  of  God  by  his  traditions."  U})on  this 
Psalm  the  Christian  theologues,  in  scries,  from  the 
Apostolic  Fathers  to  Jerome  and  Augustine,  in  their 
comments  give  evidence,  each  in  his  age,  at  once  con- 
cerning those  secular  variations  of  religious  and  ethical 
thought  which  mark  the  lapse  of  time  ;  and  of  what 
we  must  call  the  restraining   power    of  the  canon  of 


HEBREW    POETEY.  43 

Scripture,  "wliicli,  from  age  to  age,  overrules  these 
variations — -ealling  back  each  digressive  mood  of  tlie 
moment ;  as  if  Avith  a  silent,  yet  irresistible  gravitation 
— a  centripetal  Ibrce. 

"  Thy  word,"  says  David,  "  is  settled  in  Heaven  ;" 
— it  is  fixed  as  the  constellations  in  the  firmament  ; 
and  if  we  would  justly  estimate  what  this  undecaying 
force  of  the  canon  of  Scripture  imports,  in  relation  to 
the  ever-shifting  variations  of  human  thought  and  feel- 
ing, and  in  relation  to  the  fluctuations  of  national  man- 
ners and  notions,  from  one  fifty  years  to  another,  we 
should  take  in  hand  some  portion  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment Scriptures — say  such  a  portion  as  is  this  sublime 
Psalm — and  trace  its  exegetical  history  through  the 
long  line  of  commentators — from  the  Rabbis,  onward 
to  Origen,  Tertullian,  Basil,  Chrysostom,  Jerome, 
Augustine,  the  Schoolmen,  and  Bernard  of  Clairvaux ; 
then  the  pre-reformation  Romanists ;  the  Reformers, 
the  Jesuits,  the  Jansenists,  the  Puritans  of  England 
and  Scotland,  the  English  Methodists ;  and  so  on  till 
we  reach  these  last  times  of  great  religious  animation, 
and  of  little  religious  depth  —times  of  sedulous  ex- 
actitude in  scholarship,  and  of  feeble  consciousness  as 
toward  the  unseen  future  and  the  eternal ; — times  in 
which  whatever  is  of  boundless  dimensions  in  Holy 
Scripture  has  passed  beyond  our  range  of  vision,  while 
our  spectacled  eyes  are  intent  upon  iotas.* 

But  the  Psalms  of  David,  and  of  Moses,  and  of 
others,  shall  live  on,  undamaged,  to  the  times  that  are 
next  ensuing;  and  far  beyond  those  times.  Our  Bibles 
shall   come   into   the   hands   of  our  sons,  and  of   our 

*  See  Note. 


44  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

grptndsons,  wlio,  reading  Hebrew  as  correctly  as  the 
most  learned  of  their  sires  have  read  it,  shall  do  so  in 
a  season  of  religious  dej^th,  and  of  religious  conscien- 
tiousness, and  who,  in  such  a  season,  shall  look  back 
with  grief,  and  shame,  aud  amazement,  ^vhen  they  see 
how  nugatory  were  the  difficulties  which  are  making 
so  many  among  us  to  stumble,  aud  to  fall.  Human 
opinion  has  its  fashion,  and  it  shifts  its  ground  with 
each  generation  ; — a  thirty  or  forty  years  is  the  ut- 
most date  of  any  one  clearly  definable  mood  or  style 
of  religious  feeling  and  ophiion:  each  of  such  ephemeral 
fashions  being  a  departure,  upon  a  radius,  from  the 
central  authority — the  Canon  of  Scripture,  accepted 
as  from  God. 

But  the  imperishable  fixedness  of  Holy  Scripture — 
first,  in  a  purely  literary  sense,  as  an  ascertained  an- 
cient text,  which  none  may  now  alter  ;  and  next,  as 
the  vehicle  or  depository  of  the  Divine  AA^ill  toward 
mankind,  does  not  imply  or  necessitate,  either  a 
superstitious  and  blind  regard  to  the  letter  of  Scripture, 
as  if  it  were  not  human,  or  an  enchainment  to  the 
words,  as  if  the  Divine  element  therein  contained,  and 
thei-eby  conveyed,  might  not  have  been  otherwise  word- 
ed, and  diffused  among  the  people  in  other  forms  of  lan- 
guage than  in  this  one — to  which,  as  a  fixed  stand- 
ard, all  must  in  fact  return.  Not  only  is  the  Divine, 
in  Scripture,  greater  than  the  human,  but  it  has  an 
intrinsic  power  and  vitality  which  renders  it  largely 
independent  of  its  embodiment  in  this  or  that  form  of 
language.  There  is  no  version  of  the  Psalms — ancient 
or  modern  (or  none  which  comes  within  the  cognizance 
of  a  European'  reader) — which  does  not  competently 
convey  the  theology  and  the  ethical  majesty,  and  the 


HEBREW    POETRY.  45 

juridical  ^•^amlt'^l^,  of  the  one  I^saliu  that  lias  here  been 
referred  to.  In  no  version,  even  the  most  faulty — 
whichever  that  may  be — does  an  awakened  conscience 
fail  to  catch  the  distant  sound  of  that  thunder  which 
— in  a  day  future — shall  shake,  not  the  earth  only, 
but  heaven.  In  no  such  version  does  tlie  contrite  spirit 
fail  to  hear  in  it  that  message  which  carries  peace  to 
the  humble  in  heart. 

If  indeed  the  Hebrew  text  had  perished  ages  ago 
—  say  at  the  time  of  the  breaking  up  of  the  Jewish 
religious  state — and  if,  consequently,  we  could  now 
make  an  appeal  to  nothing  more  authentic  than  to 
ancient  versions,  believed  to  be,  on  the  whole,  trust- 
worthy, then  the  constant  tendency  toward  deflection 
and  aberration,  in  human  o])inion,  could  have  received 
no  effective  check.  In  each  age,  the  rise  of  schemes  of 
opinion — sometimes  superstitious  and  fanatical,  some- 
times philosophical  and  negative — would  have  pro- 
duced successive  vitiations  of  those  unauthentic  docu- 
ments, until  even  these  had  lost  their  cohesive  princi- 
ple, and  would  have  ceased  to  be  thought  of  This 
is  not  our  position ;  and  therefore  versions  and  com- 
mentaries, some  critical  and  exact,  some  popular  and 
paraphrastic;  comments  wise,  and  comments  unwise, 
sceptical,  or  imbecile,  may  all  take  their  course — they 
may  severally  win  favour  for  a  day,  or  may  retain  it 
for  a  century  ; — all  are  harmless  as  toward  the  Kock 
— the  imi)erishfible  Hebrew  text,  which  abides — 
dth  Tov  a/ojvoj  xal  swj  <rou  alCJvos — and  until  the  human 
family  shall  have  finished  its  term  of  discipline  on 
earth. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ARTIFICIAL     STEUCTUr.E     OP     THE     HEBREW     POETRY,     A3 
RELATED    TO    ITS    PURPOSES. 

The  attempt  to  bring  the  Poetry  of  the  Hebrew 
Scriptures  into  meti'ical  analogy  with  that  of  Greece 
and  Rome  has  not  been  successful.  This  Avoukl 
demand  a  better  knowledge  of  the  quantity  of  syllables 
when  the  language  was  spoken,  and  of  the  number  of 
syllables  in  words,  and  of  its  rhythm,  than  is  actually 
possessed  by  Modern  Hebraists.  But  that  a  people  so 
pre-eminently  musical  by  constitution  should  have  failed 
to  perceive,  or  should  not  have  brought  under  rule, 
the  rhythm  of  words  and  sentences  could  not  easily 
be  believed ;  yet  to  what  extent  this  was  done  by  them, 
or  on  what  principles,  it  would  now  be  hopeless  to 
inquire. 

There  is,  however,  a  metrical  structure,  artificial  and 
elaborate,  which  gives  evidence  of  itself,  even  in  a 
translation :  it  does  not  affect  the  cadence,  or  musical 
adjustment  of  words;  but  it  does  affect  the  choice  of 
words  and  the  structure  of  sentences.  To  treat  the 
Hebrew  Poetry  in  any  technical  sense  does  not  come 
within  the  purpose  of  the  present  work,  nor  indeed  the 
qualifications  of  the  Author.  What  we  are  concerned 
with  is — the  spirit,  not  the  body,  the  soul,  not  the  foi'm. 
Yet  weighty  inferences  are  derivable  from  the  fiict  that 
religious  principles  were  conveyed  to  the  Hebrew  people, 


HEBREW    POETRY.  47 

and  through  these  have  readied  oilier  iialions,  in  a 
mode  that  conforms  itself  to  arbitrary  rules  of  compo- 
sition, which  determine  the  choice  of  words,  the  struc- 
ture of  sentences,  and  the  collocation  of  members  of 
sentences,  and  the  framework  of  entire  Odes.  Even  in 
passages  which  breathe  the  soul  of  the  loftiest  and  the 
most  impassioned  poetry,  a  highly  artificial  apposition 
and  balancing  of  terms  and  clauses  prevails ; — as  if  the 
Form  were,  in  the  esthnation  of  the  writer,  of  so  much 
importance  that  it  should  give  law  even  to  the  thought 
itself. 

This  subject  stands  full  in  our  path,  and  demands  to 
be  considered  before  we  pass  on :  it  is  a  subject  that 
touches,  not  merely  the  Hebrew  Poetry,  but  also  the 
belief  we  should  hold  to  concerning  the  Divine  origina- 
tion of  Holy  Scripture. 

The  conveyance  of  thought  through  the  medium  of 
language  is  a  conditioned  expression  of  a  speaker's  or  a 
writer's  inmost  meaning — more  or  less  so.  In  a  strict 
sense  the  embodiment  of  thought  at  all,  in  toords  and 
combinations  of  words,  and  in  sentences,  is — a  con- 
ditioned, as  well  as  an  imperfect  conveyance  of  it ;  for 
words  have  only  a  more  or  less  determinate  value, 
which  may  be  accepted  by  the  hearer — especially  when 
involved  sentences  are  uttered,  in  a  sense  varying  from 
that  of  the  speaker  by  many  shades  of  difference. 
Thought,  symbolised  in  words,  is  subjected,  first,  to 
those  conditions  that  attach  to  language  from  the  uni- 
versal ambiguity,  or  the  convertible  import  of  language  ; 
and  then  to  the  indistinctness  of  the  speaker's  concep- 
tions, and  of  the  hearer's  also.  Yet  when  a  perfectly 
intelligible  and  familiar  fact  is  aflii-nied  in  words  that 
are  intended  to  be  understood  in  their  literal,  or  |)i-imi- 


48  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

tive  sense,  we  may  loosely  say  that  such  utterances  are 
xinconditioned ;  as  thus — Brutus  stabbed  Ca?sar  in  the 
senate-house  at  Rome.  Julius  Ciesar,  with  his  legions, 
landed  in  Britain.  William  of  Normandy  did  the  like 
with  his  Normans  centuries  later. 

It  is  otherwise  in  affirmations  such  as  the  following — 
The  main  principles  of  political  economy,  as  taught 
by  Adam  Smith,  rest  upon  a  rock,  and  will  never  be 
overthrown.  The  great  ]u-inciples  of  religious  liberty, 
as  embodied  in  Locke's  First  Letter  on  Toleration,  have 
hitherto,  and  will  ever  defy  the  utmost  efforts  of  into- 
lerant hierarchies  to  shake  them.  The  aristocracy  of 
England  is  the  pillar  of  the  British  monarchy: — the 
throne  and  the  aristocracy  must  stand  or  fall  together. 
In  affirmations  of  this  kind  the  Thought  of  the  speaker 
or  writer — that  is  to  say,  his  idtiniate  intention — is 
conditioned  by  its  conveyance  in  terms  that  are  wholly 
figurative,  and  which  therefore  must  await,  if  it  be  only 
an  instant,  the  result  of  a  mental  process  in  the  mind 
of  the  hearer,  who — unconsciously  perhaps — renders 
them  into  their  well-known  prosaic  values.  Such  as 
they  are  when  they  meet  the  ear,  they  convey  no  mean- 
ing that  is  intelligible  in  relation  to  the  subject.  Un- 
conditioned thought  may  be  still  further  conditioned, 
if  I  eni])loy,  not  merely^(/l«ra^^^7e  terms,  but  such  as  are 
suggested  at  the  moment  of  speaking  by  vivid  emotions, 
or  by  stormy  passions ;  as  if,  in  addi-essing  a  political 
meeting  from  a  platform,  I  should  affirm  what  I  intend 
to  say  in  a  declamatory  style,  as  thus — "  The  deadly 
miasma  of  republican  doctrines,  rising  from  the  swamps 
of  popular  ignorance,  is  even  now  encircling  the  British 
polity : — year  by  year  is  it  insidiously  advancing  toward 
the  very  centre  of  the  State  ;  nor  can  the  time  be  distant 


HEBREW    POETKY.  49 

when  it  sluill  liave  destroyed  all  life  within  the  sacred 
enclosures  of  our  ancient  institutions."  In  tliis  instance, 
not  only  are  the  words  and  phrases  figurative,  and  are 
such  therefore  as  need  to  be  rendered  into  their  literal 
equivalents,  but  they  are  such  also  as  indicate  an 
excited  state  of  feeling  in  the  speaker,  which  a  calm 
philosophic  mood  will  not  ap|)rove  ;  and  the  exuberances 
of  which  may  well  bear  much  retrenchment.  Neverthe- 
less, thus  far,  this  conditioning  of  thought — as  well  of  the 
impassioned  style,  as  of  that  which  is  simply  figurative 
— may  pro})erly  be  called  natural  j  for  it  is  natural  to 
the  human  mind  to  utter  itself  in  figures ;  and  also  to 
indulge  in  that  fei'vid  style  which  is  promi)ted  by  pow- 
erful emotions.  ^ 

Beyond  this  stage,  and  quite  of  another  sort,  is  that 
conditioning  of  Thouglit  which  we  must  designate  as 
technical,  and  which  is  m^\\\\\ factitious^  or  arbitrary; 
as,  for  instance  ; — let  us  take  up  the  above  example 
of  political  ill-augury,  and  bring — if  not  the  very  same 
words,  yet  their  nearest  equivalents, — into  cadence,  as 
blank  verse :  in  this  case  some  of  the  words  must  by 
necessity  be  rejected  as  unfit  altogether  for  a  place  in 
verse  ;  and  substitutes  must  be  found  for  others,  because 
they  are  not  easily  reduced  to  cadence.  Moreover, 
the  position  of  every  word  must  be  determined  by  a 
rule  which,  in  relation  to  the  requirements  of  uncondi- 
tioned thought,  is  arbitrary  and  artificial ;  the  passage 
might  thus  run — 

E'en  now  this  poison  of  the  people's  error 
Creeps  on  insidious,  and  from  day  to  day 
Invades  yet  more  the  precincts  of  the  state. 
Not  long  to  wait,  alas !     All  life — all  soul, 
Shall  cease  and  die  within  tlicsc  regal  courts  1 


50  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

Thoiiglit,  in  this  form,  submits  itself  to  the  require- 
ments of  quantity  and  rhythm,  by  means  of  several  sub- 
stitutions of  word  for  word  ;  and  also  by  deflections  from 
the  simpler  and  the  more  natural  order  of  tlie  words. 
A  still  further  yielding  of  the  original  thought  to  the 
requirements  of  art  would  be  needed  if,  in  addition  to 
cadence,  we  should  demand  rhyme  ;  for  in  that  case  not 
only  must  another  law  of  cadence  be  complied  with  ;  but 
also  the  fortuitous  law  of  a  jingle  in  the  last  syllable  of 
eacli  line  must  ])revail.  On  these  conditions  the  same 
meaning  might  thus  be  conveyed — 

Now  while  we  speak  comes  on  the  noisome  death — 
Birth  of  the  swamps — it  poisons  every  breath. 
Doctrine  delusive !  creeps  it  o'er  the  state, 
And  dooms  its  ancient  glories  to  their  fate. 
Soon  shall  we  mourn,  in  desolated  halls, 
Departed  greatness — where  an  Empire  falls. 

For  any  purposes  of  political  instruction,  or  of  warn- 
ing, the  Thought,  whether  it  be  that  of  the  platform 
speaker,  or  that  of  a  philosophical  writer,  may  be  fully 
expressed,  either  Avhen  made  to  conform  itself  to  the 
laws  of  cadence,  or  when  subjected  to  the  still  more 
technical  necessities  of  rhyme.  Nevertheless  it  must  be 
granted,  that,  if  the  utterance  of  the  orator — figurative 
and  impassioned  as  it  is — be  the  fittest  possible  for  con- 
veying his  meaning,  and  if  the  words  he  uses,  and  the 
order  in  which  he  arranges  these  words,  be  the  best 
possible,  then  the  reduction  of  these  same  thoughts  to 
the  rules  of  blank  verse,  and,  still  more,  their  reduction 
to  the  conditions  of  rhyme,  involve  a  disadvantage  which 
must  be  of  more  or  less  consequence. 

There  are,  however,  instances  in  which  Thought,  em- 


HEBREW    POETRY.  51 

bodied  in  the  language  of  symbols,  and  of  material  im- 
ages, is  of  a  kind  which  sustains  no  damage  under  these 
conditions  ;  in  truth,  the  poetic  style  may  be  the  very 
fittest  for  giving  utterance  to  feelings,  or  to  moods  of 
mind  ;  or,  as  already  affirmed,  to  truths  or  princij)lcs  to 
Avhich  no  abstract  terms  or  combinations  of  terms  can 
ever  be  adequate. 

Yet  there  are  some  purely  technical  conditions  in  sub- 
mitting to  which  the  spontaneous  language  of  feeling,  or 
the  severe  utterances  of  abstract  truth,  can  hardly  be 
granted  to  stand  wholly  exempt  from  a  real  disadvan- 
tage. Tliere  niay,  indeed,  be  a])provable  reasons,  war- 
ranting the  employment  of  such  artiiicial  means — albeit 
they  do  involve  a  disadvantage;  neverlheless,  where  we 
find  it  existing,  it  must  be  accepted  as  it  is — it  is  a  con- 
ditioning of  Thought  wliicli,  when  it  is  admitted  on 
occasions  the  most  serious,  indicates  the  extent  of  that 
adaptation  of  the  Divine  to  the  human  of  which  we 
can  never  lose  sight  without  falling  into  perplexities. 

With  the  exception  of  two  or  three  lines — cited  by 
St.  Paul  from  the  Greek  poets — the  Scriptures  of  the 
New  Testament  are  everywhere  prosaic  in  form : — the 
intention  of  the  writer  or  speaker  is  conveyed  always  in 
the  most  direct  manner  which  the  rules  of  lano;ua<2:e 
admit  of — figurative  terms  are  employed  where  none 
other  are  available.  Thought  is  here  unconditioned,  so 
far  as  it  can  be — the  subject-matter,  considered.  Not 
so  in  the  Scriptures  of  the  Old  Testament.  Nearly  a 
half  of  the  entire  mass,  or  in  the  proportion  of  twenty- 
two  to  twenty-five,  the  Hebrew  writings  are  not  merely 
poetic,  as  to  their  diction,  but  they  are  metrical  in 
form  ; — or  we  should  better  say — the  Tliought  of  the 
writer  is  sulyected  to  iiiles  of  structuie  that  are  in  the 


52  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

highest  degree  artificial.  This  fact — well  understood  as 
now  it  is — escapes  the  notice  of  the  reader  of  modern 
versions  ;  albeit,  when  once  it  has  been  explained  to  a 
reader  of  ordinary  intelligence,  he  easily  perceives  it — 
wherever  it  is  actually  found. 

We  have  here  named  what  is  about  the  proportion  of 
prose  to  verse  throughout  the  Old  Testament ;  but,  in 
truth,  if  those  parts  of  the  historical  books  are  set  off 
from  the  account  which  are  genealogical  merely,  and 
those  also  which  are  repetitive  or  redundant,  and  those, 
moreover,  which  barely,  if  at  all,  convey  any  religious 
meaning,  then  it  will  appear  that  very  much  more  than 
a  half  of  the  Canon  of  Scripture  in  the  Hebrew  takes 
this  latter  form ;  or,  as  we  say,  is  conditioned  in  con- 
formity with  artificial  rules  of  structure. 

Of  this  structure,  which  of  late  has  been  carefully  set 
forth,  and  illustrated,  even  in  popular  works,  there  can 
be  no  need  in  this  place  to  give  any  account  in  detail. 
The  fact  of  its  existence  is  all  we  have  to  do  with ;  and 
this,  briefly  stated,  is  this — that  each  separate  utter- 
ance of  religious  thought — theological,  ethical,  or  de- 
votional—  is  thrown  into  an  antithetical  form,  so  mak- 
ing up  a  couplet,  or  a  triplet ;  or  an  integral  verse  in 
four,  Ave,  or  six  measured  lines.  The  second  line  of 
the  two  is  often  a  repetition  only  of  the  first,  in  other 
terms : — often  it  is  an  antithetic  utterance  of  the  same 
thought : — sometimes  it  is  an  illustrative  supplement 
to  it : — sometimes  an  exceptive  caution ;  yet  every- 
where the  ode  or  lyrical  composition,  regarded  as  a 
whole,  is  thus  built  up  of  members — limbs — apposed, 
one  to  the  other — balancing  one  the  other,  and  finding 
their  reason,  not  simply  in  the  requirements  of  Thought 
— uttered  in  the  prosaic  form — but,  beyond  this,  in  the 


hebkp:w  poetry.  53 


rules  or  the  usages  of  an  arbitrary  system  of  composi- 
tion. 

Then,  besides  tliis  kind  of  structure,  many  of  tlie 
odes  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  obey  a  law  of  alliteixi- 
tion — ^^•hich  is  still  more  arbitrary,  inasmuch  as  it  re- 
quires the  first  word  of  each  verse,  jii  a  certain  number 
of  verses,  to  begin  with  the  same  letter,  and  these 
in  alphabetic  order.  Any  one  who  will  try  for  himself 
a  few  experiments,  in  English,  will  find  that,  in  yield- 
ing obedience  to  requirements  of  this  kind,  Thought 
must  take  a  turn,  or  must  very  greatly  mould  itself  to  a 
fashion  which  it  would  not  otherwise  have  chosen. 
Thought  submits  to  a  process  of  conditioning  which  inti- 
mately afi:ects  it,  if  not  in  substance,  yet  in  its  modes  of 
utterance.  Tlie  second  verse  in  Milton's  Christmas 
Hymn  stands  thus  : — 

Only  with  speeches  Hiir 
She  woos  the  gentle  air 
To  hide  her  guilty  front  with  innocent  snow ; 
And  on  her  naked  shame, 
Pollute  with  sinful  blame, 
The  saintly  veil  of  maiden  white  to  throw, 
Confounded,  that  her  Maker's  eyes 
Should  look  so  near  upon  her  foul  deformities. 

Now  let  the  requirement  be  this — that,  without  dis- 
placing the  rhyme,  or  greatly  altering  the  sense,  every 
line  of  the  eight  shall  begin  with  the  same  letter — 
shall  itbe  W? 

"With  only  speeches  fair 
"Woos  she  the  gentle  air, 
"Wistful  to  hide  her  front  wiih  innocent  snow; 
Wide  on  her  naked  shame, 


54  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

"Wasted  with  sinful  blame 
White,  as  a  saintl}'  maiden  veil  to  throw: 
"Woe  were  it,  that  her  Maker's  eyes, 

Wrathful,  should  look  upon  her  foul  deformities. 

We  should  never  accept  this,  or  any  other  alliterative 
form  of  the  verse,  as  if  it  were  in  itself  preferable  to 
its  original  ibrni,  constrained  only  by  tlie  laws  of  me- 
tre, and  by  the  rhyme.  Nevertheless,  the  sentiment, 
or  final  meaning  of  the  original,  is  conveyed,  with 
little,  if  any  damage,  in  the  more  constrained  form  that 
is  demanded  by  the  rule  of  alliteration: — the  injury 
inflicted  in  this  instance  is  technical,  more  than  it  is 
substantial.  It  may  easily  be  admitted,  that,  if  a  com- 
position of  great  length  were  intended  to  subserve  pur- 
poses of  popular  instruction,  the  alliterative  form  might 
be  chosen  for  the  sake  of  the  aid  it  affords  to  the  mem- 
ory, and  thus  tending  to  secure  a  faultless  transmission 
of  the  Avhole,  from  father  to  son,  or,  rather,  from  the 
religious  mother  to  her  children.  It  will  be  our  part 
hereafter  to  show  tliat  the  religious  intention  of  the  In- 
spired writings  is  securely  conveyed  under  all  forms, 
however  arbitrary  they  maybe  as  to  their  literary  struc- 
ture. 

As  to  the  several  species  of  the  Hebrew  Poetry,  it  can 
only  be  in  an  accommodated  sense  that  we  could  ap- 
ply to  it  any  of  those  terms  that  belong  to  the  Poetry 
of  Greece,  and  which,  had  their  origin  in  the  artistic 
intelligence  of  its  people.  There  would  be  little  mean- 
ing in  the  words  if  we  spoke  of  Odes,  Lyrics,  or  Epics, 
in  this  case.  The  Hebrew  Poetry  has  its  kinds  ;  but  they 
are  pecuhar  to  itself:  it  has  origmated  species  of  Poetry: 
it  lias  conformed  itself  to  no  models:   it    has  S23rung 


HEBREW    POETRY.  55 

from  nothing  earlier  than  itself;  or  nothing  that  is 
extant: — it  has  had  no  cognates  among  contemporary 
literatures.  Through  the  medium  of  innumerable 
versions  the  Biblical  literature  has  combined  itself  in 
an  intimate  manner  with  the  intellectual  existence  of 
modern  (civilized)  nations.  Every  people  has  made  its 
wealth  their  own :  in  truth,  itself  drawing  its  force  from 
the  deepest  and  most  universal  ])rincii)les  of  human 
nature,  the  Hebrew  Scrii)tures,  when  once  they  have 
thoroughly  permeated  the  popular  mind,  become  an 
undistinguishable  element,  not  only  of  the  religious  and 
the  moral  life  of  the  peo})le,  but,  to  a  great  extent,  of 
their  intellectual  life  also.  With  ourselves — the  British 
people — the  Inspired  writings  of  the  Old  Testament 
have  become  to  us  the  milk  of  infancy  and  childhood, 
and  the  nourishment  of  manhood  in  its  most  robust 
stage.  It  is  to  these  books  that  we  owe  whatever  in 
our  literature  possesses  most  of  simple  majesty  and 
force  ;  whatever  is  the  most  fully  fraught  ^ylt\\  feeling  ; 
whatever  is  the  most  true  to  nature,  when  nature  is 
truest  to  virtue,  and  to  wisdom.  Whatever  it  is  that 
enters,  as  by  right,  the  moral  consciousness  ; — whatever 
it  is  that  the  most  eifectively  draws  the  soul  away  from 
its  cleaving  to  the  dust,  and  lifts  the  thoughts  towards  a 
brighter  sphere — all  such  elements  of  our  English  lite- 
rature, whether  avowedly  so  or  not,  must  trace  their 
rise,  directly  or  indirectly,  to  the  Hebrew  Scriptures, 
and  especially  to  those  portions  of  them  that  are,  in 
spirit  and  in  form,  poetic. 

If  we  were  to  affirm  that  certain  portions  of  this 
Poetry  are  descriptive,  or  moral,  or  pastoral,  this  would 
be  to  misunderstand  the  purport  of  the  samples  we  might 
adduce   of  these  kinds.      Vividly   conscious   as   these 


56  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

writers,  or  most  of  them,  are  to  wliat  is  sublime  and 
beautiful  in  the  visible  world,  they  are  thus  conscious 
toward  the  things  around  them  in  one  sense  only — 
namely,  as  parts  of  God's  creation.  The  Hebrew  poet 
attempts  no  local  description : — he  does  not  dwell  upon 
the  picturesque  ; — albeit  our  modern  sense  of  the  pic- 
turesque has  sprung  from  tastes  and  habits  that  have 
had  their  rise  in  the  Hebrew  Scriptures ;  nor  do  they  at 
any  time  stop  on  their  way  to  bring  before  us  the  scenic 
characteristics  of  their  country.  None  of  them  has 
leisure  to  paint  particular  scenes,  as  do  our  Thomson, 
or  Burns,  or  Cowper.  It  is  a  glance  only  that  they 
take  of  Nature,  and  it  is  such  a  glance  as,  from  its 
vividness  and  breadth,  is  so  much  the  more  hiteUigible 
in  all  lands. 

The  Hebrew  Poetry — artificial  in  structure — is  not 
artistic  in  its  purpose  or  intention.  A  work  may  be 
designated  as  artistic  which,  as  the  production  of  genius, 
manifestly  has  no  higher  aim  than  that  of  giving  plea- 
sure, and  of  exhibiting  the  artist's  power  to  achieve  this 
one  purpose.  But  the  Poets  of  the  Bible  not  only  have 
in  view  always  another,  and  a  far  higher  object  than 
that  of  the  delectation  of  their  hearers,  or  the  display 
of  their  personal  ability  ;  for,  in  eveiy  instance,  they  are 
intent  upon  acquitting  themselves  of  a  weighty  respon- 
sibility ; — they  are  cliai-ged  Avith  a  message : — they  are 
bearing  a  testimony  : — they  are  promising  blessings : — 
they  are  threatening  and  predicting  woes.  Therefore 
it  is  that  those  several  species  of  composition  to  which 
the  taste  and  genius  of  the  Persians,  or  of  the  Greeks, 
have  given  a  definite  form,  do  not  make  their  ai>pearance 
within  the  compass  of  the  Insjjired  writings. 

It  is  not  to  win  admiration  by  the  opulence  of  his 


HEBREW    POETRY.  57 

ima2:ination — it  is  not  to  clianu  a  lisU'iiint;-  multitude 
by  the  soft  graces  of  song,  or  by  its  sublimities,  that 
the  Hebrew  bard  ever  utters  himself.  We  ought  not 
to  say  that  a  scorn  of  popular  favour  betrays  itself — as 
if  subauclite — in  these  deliverances  of  a  message  from 
the  Almighty;  .yet  it  is  almost  so.  We  should  here 
keep  in  view  the  distinction  between  the  genius  which 
contents  itself  with  its  own  triumphs,  in  achieving  an 
excellent  work,  and  the  ability  which  executes,  in  the 
best  manner,  a  work  the  aim  of  which  is  loftier  than 
that  of  commanding  applause.  It  might  not  be  easy  to 
adduce  single  instances  in  which  this  important  distinc- 
tion obtrudes  itself  upon  notice  in  a  manner  beyond 
dispute ;  neverth-eless  a  comparison  at  large  of  the 
Hebrew  literature,  with  the  literature  of  other  nations, 
would  not  fail  to  make  its  reality  unquestionable. 

So  it  is,  as  we  shall  see,  tliat,  although  Pa'estine,  such 
as  then  it  was,  abounded  with  aspects  of  nature  that 
might  well  tempt  description,  and  had  many  points  of 
scenic  eifect,  nothing  of  this  sort  is  extant  within  the 
compass  of  the  Scriptures.  Why  might  not  spots  in 
Lebanon  have  been  brought  in  picture  before  us  ? — why 
not  the  luxuriance  of  Coelo-Syria,  where  the  Jordan 
springs  to  light  fi'om  an  Eden  of  beauty  ? — why  not  the 
flowery  plain  of  Esdraelon  ? — why  not  the  rugged  ma- 
jesty of  the  district  bordering  upon  the  Dead  Sea? 
Alive  to  every  form  of  natural  beauty  and  sublimity, 
and  quick  to  seize  his  images  from  among  them,  the 
Hebrew  Poet  never  lingers  in  such  scenes :  he  uses  the 
wealth  of  the  visible  world  for  his  purposes: — Nature 
he  commands  ;  but  she  commands  not  him. 

It  may  be  said  that  the  earliest  born  of  the  poetic 
styles  in  every  land  has  this  same  characteristic — nanie- 

3-^ 


58  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

ly,  that  of  having  a  fixed  purpose — an  intention ;  but 
then,  in  the  course  of  things  this  archaic  directness,  this 
primitive  seriousness,  gives  place,  in  the  following  age, 
to  the  elaborate  or  artistic  style — to  those  modes  of 
composition  that  find  their  beginning  and  their  end  in 
the  Poet's  personal  ambition.  This  process  goes  on 
until  a  national  literature  (of  the  imaginative  class)  which 
was  wholly  genuine  in  its  earliest  era,  has  become 
wholly  factitious  towards  its  close.  Yet  it  is  not  so  in 
the  instance  with  which  now  we  are  concerned : — the 
Hebrew  Poetry,  in  the  course  of  a  thousand  years, 
l^assed  through  no  stages  of  aitistic  sophistication.  Take 
the  instance  of  those  of  the  Psalms  which,  on  probable 
grounds  of  criticism,  are  of  a  date  as  early  as  the 
exodus  of  Israel  from  Egypt — compare  them  with  those 
which,  by  their  allusion  to  the  events  of  a  much  later 
time,  must  be  dated  toward  the  years  of  the  sealing  of 
the  prophetic  dispensation :  the  same  avoidance  of 
whatever  the  Poet's  own  ambition  might  have  dictated 
is  observable  throughout  this  lapse  of  ages. 

Do  we  find  an  exceptive  instance  in  that  one  compo- 
sition which  stands  by  itself  in  the  canonical  collection 
— the  Canticle  of  Solomon  ?  This  instance  may  yield  a 
confirmation  of  our  doctrine,  rather  than  a  contradic- 
tion of  it ;  but  the  anomalous  character  of  this  match- 
less poem,  as  well  as  its  singular  beauty,  demands  a 
distinct  consideration  of  it — or,  we  might  say,  a  criticism 
— apart. 

Tlien,  again,  the  Hebrew  literature  has  no  Drama ; 
nor  has  it  an  Epic;  and  the  reasons  why  it  has  neither 
of  these  are  such  as  demand  attention.  It  would  be 
to  put  u]ion  the  word  Drama  a  very  forced  meaning 
to  apply  it  to  the  Book  of  Job ; — and,  in  so  doing,  to 


HEBREW    POETRY.  59 

allow  place  for  a  notable  exception  to  what  we  here 
alleixe. 

Those  writers  treat  human  nature  in  no  superficial 
manner; — they  touch  it  to  the  quick;  but  they  do  not 
undertake  to  picture  forth  separately  its  elements,  its 
passions,  its  aftections,  or  its  individual  characteristics. 
To  do  this,  either  in  the  mode  of  the  Drama,  or  iu  tlie 
mode  of  an  Epic,  would  imply  invention^  or  fiction^ 
m  a  sense  of  which  no  instances  whatever  occur  Avith- 
in  the  compass  of  the  Canonical  Scriptures.  The  apoph- 
thegm is  not  a  fiction,  for  it  puts  not  on  the  historic 
guise : — the  allegory  is  no  fiction,  for  it  is  never  mis- 
understood as  a  truthful  narrative  of  events.  No 
concatenation  of  actual  events,  no  course  of  incidents 
ia  real  life,  ever  brings  out  separate  passions,  or  senti- 
ments, in  dramatic  style,  or  with  a  unison  of  tneaning. 
The  dramatic  unlty^  as  to  the  elements  of  human 
natm-e,  must  be  culled,  and  put  together,  with  much 
selective  care — Avith  artistic  skill.  A  composition  of 
this  order  must  be  a  work  of  genius — like  a  group  of 
figures  in  sculpture. 

No  actual  man,  no  real  person  of  history,  has  CA'er 
been  always  a  hero,  or  has  ever  done  and  said  the 
things  that  may  be  fitting  to  an  Epic.  Therefore  it  is 
that  an  Epic  Poem  must  be  an  invention  ;  it  must  be 
an  artistic  achievement  :  the  Poetu  may  be  quite  true  in 
human  nature  generically  ;  but  it  is  never  true  as  a  real 
narrative  : — it  borrows  a  something  from  history  ;  but 
it  creates  ten  times  more  than  it  borroAvs.  Scarcely 
then  need  we  say  Avhy  it  is  that  the  IlebrcAV  literature 
possesses  neither  Drama  nor  Ej)ic  :  the  reasons,  as  Ave 
shall  presently  see,  are  distinctly  two. 

The  EjAc — which  is  history  transmuted  into  fiction — 


60  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

for  a  foregone  purpose,  or  in  regard  to  a  final  cause, 
has  stood  foremost  in  the  esteem  of  every  people  tliat 
has  risen  above  the  rudest  barbarism — of  every  people 
— ONE  only  excepted  ;  and  this  one  is  a  people  whose 
literature,  mainly  poetic  as  it  is,  has  taken  hold  of  the 
sympathies  of  mankind  more  extensively,  and  more  per- 
manently, than  any  other.  Reasons  drawn  from  a  con- 
sideration of  the  social  condition  of  this  one  people 
might  perhaps  be  brought  forward  in  explanation  of 
this  unique  fact ;  and  there  would  then  be  room  for 
much  ingenuity  in  showing  how  we  may  solve  the  pro- 
blem— in  some  way  short  of  an  admission  which  those 
who  distaste  the  true  reason  will  labour  to  exclude. 
But  we  take  it  otherwise. 

This  series  of  Avriters,  through  the  many  centuries  of 
their  continuous  testimony,  spoke  not,  wrote  not,  as  if 
they  possessed  a  liberty  of  discursive  choice — now  scat- 
tering the  decorations  of  fiction  over  realities  ;  and  now 
striving  to  impart  to  fiction,  in  as  high  a  degree  as  pos- 
sible, the  verisimilitude  of  truth.  They  spoke  and 
wrote  with  a  consciousness  of  their  obligation  to  abso- 
lute Truth,  and  with  a  stern  fixedness  of  purpose  as 
toward  an  authority  above  them :  among  no  other 
writers  do  we  find  a  parallel  instance  of  determinate 
jnirpose.  But  whether  distinctly  conscious  of  their 
mission,  or  not  so  ;  or  only  imperfectly  conscious  of  it, 
yet  they  spoke  as  they  w^ere  moved  by  Him  who  is  the 
a.-\.s\j6rig  Qzlg — the  "  truthful  God."  Solemnly  regardful 
were  these  "  holy  men  of  God  "  of  the  sovereignty  of 
Truth — Truth  dogmatic  or  theological — Truth  ethical, 
and  Truth  historical.  Utterly  averse,  therefore,  were 
they — abhorrent,  let  us  say — not  merely  as  toward /«/- 
siflcatio72,  but  as  toward  fabrication,  or  any  approach 


HEBREW    POETKY.  61 

toward  that  sort  of  cominino]in<j^  of  the  real  with  the 
unreal  which  might  engender  falseness  ;  or  might  give 
rise  to  a  dangerous  confounding  of  tlie  two.  The 
Hebrew  Scriptures,  as  compared  witli  any  otlier  national 
literature,  are  pre-eminently — they  are  charncteristically 
— they,  and  they  alone,  are  throughout  truthful  in  tone, 
style,  and  structure.  Need  we  ask,  then,  why  they 
contain  neither  the  Drama  nor  an  Epic  ?  Xot  from  the 
want  of  fitting  subjects — not  from  poverty  of  materials; 
but  as  ministers  of  Heaven  to  whom  a  task  had  been 
assigned,  did  these  men  of  genius — and  they  were  such 
— fail  to  display  their  skill  in  the  creation  of  romances ; 
and  it  was  not  because  they  could  not  do  it,  that  they 
have  not  attempted  to  immortalize  themselves,  and  the 
heroes  of  their  national  history,  in  producing  an  Orien- 
tal Iliad,  or  Odyssey,  or  ^neid.  To  have  done  this 
would  have  been  to  introduce  among  their  people  an 
element  of  confusion  and  of  ambiguity,  which  would 
have  interfered  with  the  purpose  of  the  separation  of 
this  race  from  all  other  races. 

And  yet  this  is  not  all  that  should  be  said  ;  and  the 
second  reason  would  be  by  itself  sufficient  in  solving 
the  problem  ;  and,  not  less  than  the  first,  is  it  conclu- 
sively demonstrative  of  the  Divine  origination  of  these 
Avritings.  Because  they  are  Inspired — ^so-rrvsjrfra — and 
teach  the  things  of  God,  and  enjoin  the  worship  of  God, 
therefore  do  the  writers  abstain  from  themes  which  give 
licence  to  the  worship  of  man : — they  take  no  account 
of  heroes ;  and  yet  it  was  not  so  that  an  ambitious  poet, 
who  might  be  tliirsting  for  the  ap[)lause  of  his  country- 
men, could  find  no  subject  in  tlie  national  history 
adapted  to  his  purpose.  Why  not,  in  this  manner, 
undeitake  to  immortalize  Moses,  Samuel,  David,  Solo- 


62  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

inon  ?  Why  not?  It  was  because  the  Hebrew  Scrip- 
tures, dictated  from  above,  are  constantly  and  sternly 
truthful ; — and  they  are  so  whether  the  great  men  of 
the  Hebrew  polity  were  as  faultless  as  national  fondness 
would  have  painted  them ;  or  were  indeed  as  faulty  as 
men  at  the  best  ever  are. 

It  has  been  the  ambition — and  a  nol)le  ambition,  of 
the  most  highly  gifted  minds,  in  every  cultured  i)eoj)Ie, 
to  give  expression  to  a  perfect  ideal  of  humanity — to 
picture  a  godlike  virtue,  wisdom,  valour,  self-control, 
and  temperance,  according  to  the  national  conception 
of  what  these  qualities  should  be.  Among  the  thou- 
sand themes  of  poetry,  this  one — the  imaging  of  a  god- 
like magnanimity  and  virtue — has  held  the  highest  place. 

The  Hebrew  literature  gives  the  several  elements  of 
virtue  and  piety  in  precept ;  but  nowdiere  is  it  presented 
in  the  concrete.  In  place  of  the  dazzling  Ideal — the 
romance  of  humanity — w^e  find  only  the  real  human 
nature  of  history — vouched  for  as  such  by  the  presence 
of  those  conditions  of  human  frailty  which  the  Idealist 
would  have  taken  care  to  exclude.  A  circumstance  full 
of  meaning  it  is,  that,  in  these  Avritings,  all  that  we 
learn  of  the  acts,  and  of  the  personal  qualities  of  the 
prominent  persons  of  the  national  histoi-y,  is  found  in 
the  narrative  and  prosaic  books^  or  portions  of  books: — 
none  of  it  appears  in  the  poetic  books,  or  in  those  pas- 
sages the  style  of  which  is  figurative  and  impassioned ; 
and  wdiich,  as  to  its  form,  is  metrical.  What  then  is 
the  import  of  these  facts,  which  have  no  parallels  in  the 
national  poetry  of  other  countries  ?  It  is  this,  that 
whenever  the  individual  man  comes  forward  in  these 
writings — whenever  it  is  he  who  draws  upon  himself 
the  eyes  of  his  fellows,  whether  chief  or  prophet,  he 


HEBREW    POETRY.  63 


must  do  so — such  as  lie  is: — if  his  virtue,  his  wisdom, 
his  valour,  are  to  attract  notice,  so  do  his  sins,  his  weak- 
nesses, his  falls,  in  the  moments  of  severest  trial ;  all 
these  things  make  their  appearance  also,  and  proclaim 
the  veraciousness  of  the  record. 

Greatly  do  we  often  miscalculate  the  relative  credibi- 
lity or  incredibility  of  passages  in  ancient  writings.  No 
logic — or  no  sound  logic — can  make  it  appear  incredible 
that  God  should  raise  the  dead ;  or  that  He  should 
make  the  waters  of  the  sea  to  stand  up  as  a  heap ;  or 
that,  in  any  other  mode,  the  Almighty  should  show 
All  Might.  But  utterly  incredible  would  be  the  pre- 
tension that  any  congeries  of  events,  such  as  are  usually 
])acked  together  by  a  poet  with  a  definite  artistic  inten- 
tion, has  ever  actually  had  existence  in  the  current  of 
the  world's  aifairs.  Utterly  beyond  the  limits  of  rea- 
sonable belief  would  be  the  supposition  that  a  man — 
even  one  of  ourselves — has  ever  acted  and  spoken,  from 
year  to  year,  throughout  his  course,  with  unlailing  con- 
sistency, or  in  that  style  of  dramatic  coherence  which 
the  contriver  of  a  Romance,  or  of  an  Epic,  ligures  for 
his  hero.  Xo  such  embodiment  of  the  Ideal  has  ever, 
we  may  be  sure,  broken  in  upon  the  vulgar  realities  of 
human  existence ; — there  have  been  good  men,  and 
brave  men,  and  wise  men,  often  ;  but  there  have  been 
no  living  sculptures  after  the  fiishion  of  Phidias,  no  he- 
roes after  the  manner  of  Homer  or  Virgil. 

Then  there  comes  before  us  another  balancing  of  the 
incredible  and  the  credible  : — as  thus.  The  Hebrew 
Poets — it  is  not  one  or  two  of  them,  but  all  of  them  in 
long  series — have  abstained  from  those  idealizings  of 
humanity  at  large  upon  Mhich  the  poets  of  other  nations 
have  chosen  to  expend  their  powers.     How  is  it  that 


64  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


they  sbould  have  been  thus  abstinent — should  thus  have 
lield  oiF  from  ground  wliich  tempts  every  aspiring  mind? 
AVe  shall  find  no  admissible  answer  to  this  question, 
except  this,  tliat  this  series  of  writers  followed,  not  the 
impulses  of  their  individual  genius,  but  each  of  them 
wrote  as  he  was  inspired  from  above.  Nothing  in  any 
degree  approaching  to  a  worshipping  of  man — nothing 
of  that  sort  which  elsewhere  has  been  so  common — 
nothinoj  which  could  have  Q-iven  a  warrant  to  the  unwise 
extravagances  of  the  saint-and-martyr  worship  of  the 
Church  in  the  third  century,  anywhere  makes  its  ap- 
pearance within  the  Canonical  Scriptures  of  the  Old 
Testament.  On  the  contrary — as  well  by  solemn  in- 
junction, as  by  their  uniform  example — the  Inspired 
writers,  historians,  prophets,  poets,  repeat  the  warning 
— as  to  the  rendering  of  worship  to  man,  or  to  any 
creature — "  See  thou  do  it  not ;  worship  God." 


CIIAPTEH  IV. 

THE    ANCIENT    PALESTINE — THE   BIRTH-rLACE    OF 
POETRY. 

Poetry  will  never  disown  its  relationsbip  to  the 
beautiful  and  the  sublime  in  the  visible  world;  in  fact  it 
has  always  proved  its  dependence  uj^on  influences  of 
this  order.  Born  and  nurtured,  not  at  hazard  on  any 
spot,  but  only  in  chosen  regions,  it  finds  at  hand,  for 
giving  utterance  to  the  mysteries  of  the  inner  life,  an 
abundance  of  material  symbols — fit  for  purposes  of  this 
kiud — among  the  objects  of  sense.  It  is  the  function  of 
Poetry  to  effect  such  an  assimilation  of  the  material  with 
the  inmiaterial  as  shall  produce  one  world  of  thought 
and  of  emotion — the  visible  and  the  invisible,  intimately 
commingled. 

Poetry,  nursed  on  the  lap  of  Nature,  will  have  its 
preferences — it  must  make  its  selection ;  and  this,  not 
merely  as  to  the  exterior  decorations  of  its  abode,  but 
even  as  to  the  solid  framework  of  the  country  which  it 
favours  ;  there  must  be,  not  only  a  soil,  and  a  climate,  and 
a  various  vegetation,  favourable  to  its  training ;  but  a 
preparation  must  have  been  made  for  it  in  the  remotest 
geological  eras.  The  requirements  of  a  land  that  is  des- 
tined to  be  the  home  of  poetry  have  in  all  instances  been 
very  peculiar :— it  has  sprung  u])  and  thriven  on  coun- 
tries of  very  limited  extent — upon  areas  ribbed  and 
walled  about  by  ranges  of  mountains,  or  girdled  and  cut 


6Q  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

into  by  seas.  These — the  duly  prepared  birth-places  of 
])oetry — have  been  marked  by  abrupt  inequalities  of 
surface — by  ui)heavini»s  and  extrusions  of  the  prinian'al 
crust  of  the  earth  : — these  selected  lands  have  glistened 
Avith  many  rills — they  have  sparkled  with  fountains — 
they  have  been  clothed  with  ancient  forests,  as  well  as 
decked,  each  spring  anew,  with  flowers.  Moreover  a 
wayward  climate,  made  so  by  its  inequalities  of  surface, 
has  broken  up  the  wearisome  monotony  of  the  year — 
such  as  it  is  in  tropical  and  in  arctic  regions — by  irregu- 
lar shiftings  of  the  aei-ial  aspect  of  all  things ;  and  there 
has  been,  in  such  countries,  a  corresjDonding  variety  in 
the  animal  and  vegetable  kingdoms ;  there  has  thus  been 
a  large  store  in  the  Poet's  treasury  of  material  symbols. 
A  land  such  as  this  is — or  was,  three  thousand  years 
ago — the  country  in  which  the  Hebrew  Poetry  had  its 
birth,  and  where  it  reached  its  maturity,  and  where  it 
ceased  to  breathe;  nor  ha-s  it  been  under  conditions  very 
different  from  these  that  Poetry  has  ever  sprung  up  and 
flourished.  It  has  not  been  a  native  of  Tartarian  steppes, 
nor  of  savannahs,  or  interminable  prairies,  nor  of  track- 
less swamps,  nor  of  irrigated  rice-levels,  nor  of  leagues 
on  leagues  of  open  corn-land,  nor  of  Saharas.  Poetry 
has  not  weathered  the  tempests,  nor  confronted  the  ter- 
rors of  the  Atlas  ranges : — it  has  not  sported  on  the 
flanks  of  Caucasus,  or  on  the  steeps  of  the  Andes,  or  the 
Himalayas  ;  nor  has  it  breathed  on  the  rugged  vertebrae 
of  the  North  American  continent.  In  none  of  those 
regions  has  it  appeared  which  oppress  the  spirit  by  a 
dreary  sameness,  or  by  shapeless  magnitudes,  or  feature- 
less sublimity.  Poetry  has  had  its  birth,  and  it  has 
sported  its  childhood,  and  it  has  attained  its  manhood, 
and  has  blended  itself  with  the  national  life  in  coun- 


HEBREW    POETRY.  67 

tries  such  as  Greece,  witli  its  rugged  hills,  and  its  myrtle 
groves,,  nud  its  sparkling  rills;  but  not  in  Egypt : — in 
Italy;  hut  not  on  the  dead  levels  of  Northern  Euro]>e. 
Poeti-y  was  horn  and  reared  in  Palestine — hut  not  in 
jMeso})otainia  : — in  Persia — hut  not  in  India.  Pre-emi- 
nently has  Poetry  found  its  home  among  the  rural  graces 
of  England,  and  amid  the  glens  of  Scotland;  and  there, 
rather  than  in  those  neighboring  countries  which  are 
not  inferior  to  the  British  Islands  hi  any  other  products 
of  intellect  or  of  taste. 

Exceptions — apparent  only,  or  of  a  very  partial  kuid 
— mio-ht  be  adduced  in  contradiction  of  these  o-eneral 
affirmations.  Exceptions  there  will  be  to  any  generali- 
zation that  touches  human  nature ;  for  in  a  true  sense 
the  human  mind  is  superior  to  all  exterior  conditions ; 
and  its  individual  forces  are  such  as  to  refuse  to  be  abso- 
lutely subjected  to  any  formal  requirements  :  greater  is 
the  individual  man  than  circumstances  of  any  sort ;  and 
greater  is  he  far  than  materialists  would  report  him  to 
be — according  to  system.  A  Poet  there  may  be,  wher- 
ever Xature  shall  call  him  forth  ;  but  there  will  not  be 
Poetry  among  a  people  that  is  not  favoured  by  Xature, 
as  to  its  home  : — the  imaginative  tastes  and  the  creative 
genius  have  been,  as  to  the  mass  of  the  people^  indige- 
nous to  Greece  ;  but  not  to  Egypt :  to  Italy  ;  but  not  to 
France:  to  the  British  Islands;  but  not  to  Holland. 
And  thus  too,  it  was  the  ancient  people  of  Palestine, 
pre-eminently,  that  possessed  a  poetry  which  was  quite 
its  own.  But  then  we  must  be  looking  back  a  three 
thousand  years,  as  to  the  people  ;  and  we  must  be  thiuk- 
ing  of  the  country,  such  as  it  was  in  the  morning  hours 
of  Biblical  time.  In  later  ages — the  people  fallen !  and 
the  land — mourning  its  hoijcless  desolation ! 


68  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

Palestine,  rather  than  any  other  country  that  might 
bo  named,  demands  the  presence,  and  needs  the  indus- 
try of  man,  for  mainttdning  its  fertility.  Capable,  as  it 
has  been,  of  supporting  millions  of  people,  those  millions 
must  actually  be  there;  and  then  only  will  it  justify  its 
repute  as  a  "  very  good  land."  A  scanty  population 
will  starve,  where  a  dense  population  would  fatten.  On 
this  land,  emphatically,  is  the  truth  exemplified — that 
"  the  hand  of  the  diligent  maketh  rich  :" — it  is  here  that, 
if  man  fails  of  his  duty,  or  if  he  misunderstands  his  own 
welfare,  the  very  soil  disappears  under  his  feet.  So  has 
it  been  now  through  many  dreary  centuries ;  and  here 
has  been  accom[)lished  the  warning — that  the  sins  of  the 
fathers  are  visited,  not  only  upon  the  children  to  the 
third  and  fourth  generation  ;  but  upon  their  remotest 
descendants,  and  to  their  successors,  who  may  be  mas- 
ters of  the  land. 

The  desolations  of  Palestine  have  been  sensibly  increas- 
ed, even  Avithin  the  memory  of  man  ; — and  unquestion- 
ably so  within  periods  that  are  authentically  known  to 
history.  Those  who  have  visited  Palestine,  at  inter- 
vals of  fifteen  or  twenty  years,  have  forcibly  received 
this  impression  from  the  aspect  of  its  surface,  as  well  as 
from  the  appearance  of  the  people,  that  decay  is  still  in 
progress :  a  ruthless  and  rapacious  rule,  dreading  and 
liatino'  reform,  withers  the  industrv — such  as  it  might 
be — of  the  people,  and  makes  the  land  a  fit  roaming 
ground  for  the  Bedouin  marauder.  A  ten  years  of  Bri- 
tish rule,  and  a  million  or  two  of  British  capital,  might 
yet  make  this  land  "  blossom  as  the  rose :"  the  wilder- 
ness and  parched  land  how  should  they  be  made  glad 
for  such  a  visitation  ! 

Yet  beside  the  social  and  political  causes  of  decay, 


HEBREW    POETRY.  69 

some  ]nirely  physical  influonces  have  been  taking  effect 
upon  Palestine,  as  upon  all  the  countries  that  skirt  the 
eastern  end  of  the  ^Mediterranean.  AVithin  the  lapse  of 
"Nvhat  is  called  historic  time,  Libyan  wastes  have  become 
far  more  arid  than  once  they  were,  and,  in  consequence, 
they  have  acquired  a  higher  mean  temperature.  North 
Africa  is  much  less  abundant  in  corn,  and  is  less  graced 
with  tropical  vegetation,  than  in  ancient  times  it  was. 
In  tlie  course  of  two  or  three  thousand  years  the  sand 
hurricanes  of  Libya,  and  of  the  Sahara,  in  sweeping 
over  the  valley  of  the  Nile,  have  not  only  sepulchred  its 
sepulchres,  and  entombed  its  temples  and  palaces  in  a 
ten,  or  twenty,  or  thirty  feet  of  deposit — narrowing  con- 
tinually the  green  bordering  of  the  Nile;  but  they  have 
given  dryness  for  moisture  to  the  neighbouring  countries. 
Dense  forests  once  shed  coolness  and  humidity  over 
large  tracts  of  northern  Arabia.  The  countless  millions 
of  people  that  were  subjected  to  the  Assyrian,  the  Ba- 
bylonian, the  Median  despotisms,  flourished  upon  the 
fotness  of  the  Mesopotamian  corn-lands,  and  by  their 
industry  and  their  water-courses  not  only  preserved  the 
fertility  which  they  created,  but  rendered  the  climate 
itself  as  temperate  as  its  latitude  should  make  it.  Under 
differing  conditions  the  same  course  of  physical  change 
has  affected  Asia  Minor — once  more  populous,  in  a  ten- 
fold proportion,  than  in  modern  times  these  regions  have 
been  ;  for  then,  population,  fertility,  mildness  of  climate, 
sustained  each  other. 

Those  countries  of  Europe  which  formed  the  back- 
ground of  the  ancient  civilization  have,  in  the  course  of 
twenty  centuries,  been  denuded  of  their  forests; — and 
this  is,  no  doubt,  a  beneficial  change ;  but  this  clearance 
lias  had  crreat  influence  in  affectini^!:  the  climate  and  the 


70  THE    SPIEIT    05^    THE 


productions  of  Greece,  of  Italy,  of  France,  and  of 
Spain. 

As  to  Palestine,  the  ruins  which  now  crown  almost 
every  one  of  its  hill-tops,  and  the  very  significant  fact 
of  the  remains  of  spacious  theatres  in  districts  where 
now  human  habitations  are  scarcely  seen,  afford  incon- 
testable evidence  of  the  existence  of  a  dense  population 
in  times  that  are  not  more  remote  than  the  Christian 
era.  Galilee,  at  that  time,  and  Decapolis,  and  the  rich 
pasture-lands  beyond  Jordan,  the  Ilauran,  and  Gerash, 
and  Bosrah,  as  Avell  as  all  the  towns  of  the  coast,  teem- 
ed then  with  the  millions  of  a  population  which  mainly, 
if  not  entirely,  was  fed  from  the  home  soil.  At  the  time 
of  the  return  of  the  people  from  Babylon,  and  for  the 
three  centuries  following,  every  acre  supported  its  com- 
plement of  souls;  and  tlie  country,  according  to  its 
quality,  returned  a  full  recompence  to  the  husbandman, 
in  every  species  proper  to  the  latitude: — abundant  it 
was  in  its  dates,  its  olives,  its  vines,  and  its  figs ;  in  its 
cereals,  its  herds,  with  their  milk  and  butter ;  and,  not 
of  least  account,  its  honey.  These  are  facts  of  which 
the  evidence  meets  us  on  every  page  of  ancient  litera- 
ture where  this  garden-land  is  named. 

It  is  most  of  all  in  the  hill-country  of  Judea,  through- 
out which  the  bare  limestone  basement  of  the  land  now 
frowns  upon  the  sky,  that  the  negligence  of  the  people 
and  the  misrule  of  their  masters  have  wrought  the  great- 
est mischief  Throughout  that  region  which,  by  its  ele- 
vation as  well  as  by  its  latitude,  should  be  temperate, 
there  was  a  luxuriant  growth  on  all  sides  in  those  times 
when  the  Hebrew  Poetry  breathed  its  first  notes.  In 
that  age  every  slope  was  carefully  terraced,  and  the  vis- 
cid soil  was  husbanded  : — every  swell  of  the  land  gave 


HEBREW    POETRY.  71 

(lelii^ht  to  tlie  eye  in  tlie  Meeks  of  spriiiu-,  and  of  an 
early  summer,  in  which  it  was  hiclen  witli  a  double 
liarvest.  By  the  multitude  of  its  springs,  and  the 
abundance  of  its  rains — well  conserved  in  tanks  (such 
as  the  Pools  of  Solomon) — drought  was  seldom  known, 
or  was  mitigated  when  it  occurred  ;  and  a  mantle  of 
oi>ulence  clothed  the  country  where  now  a  stern  deso- 
lation triumphs. 

Still  to  be  traced  are  the  vestiges  of  the  ancient  wealth, 
the  margin  of  the  Dead  Sea  only  excepted.  Through- 
out Judea  human  industry  reaped  its  reward;  and  in 
the  south — as  about  Hebron,  and  in  Galilee,  and  in 
Samaria,  and  in  the  jDlains  of  Jericho,  and  on  the  flanks 
of  Lebanon,  and  round  about  Banias,  and  throughout 
the  east  country — the  Hauran  and  Bashan — the  fer- 
tility of  the  soil  was  as  great  as  in  any  country  known 
to  us.  An  easy  industry  was  enough  to  render  a  sen- 
suous existence  as  pleasurable  as  the  lot  of  man  allows. 
In  truth,  within  this  circuit  there  were  spots  upon 
which,  if  only  they  were  secure  from  the  violence  of 
their  fellows,  men  might  liave  ceased  to  sigh  for  a  lost 
Paradise.  But  that  Paradise  was  forfeited,  as  well  as 
the  first,  and  now  a  doleful  monotony,  and  a  deathlike 
silence  have  established  their  dominion,  as  if  for  ever  ! 
As  to  the  wealth  of  the  hills,  it  has  slid  down  into  the 
ravines: — wintry  torrents,  heavy  with  a  booty  wasted, 
have  raged  through  the  wadys,  and  have  left  despair  to 
the  starving  few  that  wander  upon  the  surface. 

But  now  this  Palestine — which  five  English  counties, 
Northumberland,  Durham,  Yorkshire,  Lancashire,  Lin- 
colnshire, would  more  than  cover — brings  within  its 
narrow  limits  more  varieties  of  surface,  and  of  aspect, 
and  of  temperature,  and   of  i)roduce,  than    elsewhere 


72  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

may  be  found  in  countries  that  have  ten  times  its  area. 
Palestine,  in  the  age  of  its  wealth,  was  a  samplar  of  the 
world : — it  was  a  museum  country — many  lands  in 
one :  the  tread  of  the  camel,  in  two  or  three  hours,  may 
now  give  the  traveller  a  recollection  of  his  own — come 
whence  he  may,  from  any  country  between  the  torrid 
zone  and  our  northern  latitudes.  Not  in  England,  not 
in  Switzerland,  nor  in  Greece — in  no  country  known  to 
ns — may  there  be  looked  at,  and  experienced,  so  much 
o^  difference  in  all  those  external  things  of  nature  which 
affect  the  bodily  sensations — the  conditions  of  life,  and 
in  what  quickens  the  imagination  ; — and  all  upon  an 
area  the  whole  of  which  may  be  seen  from  three  of  its 
elevations,  or  from  four.  Thus  it  was,  therefore,  that 
the  Hebrew  Poet  found,  always  near  at  hand,  those 
materials  of  his  art  which  the  poets  of  other  lands  had 
to  seek  for  in  distant  travel.  Imagery,  gay  or  grave, 
was  around  him  everywhere ;  and  these  materials 
inchided  contrasts  the  most  extreme :  then  these  diver- 
sities of  scenery,  so  near  at  hand,  must  have  made  the 
deeper  impression  upon  minds  sensible  of  such  impres- 
sions, inasmuch  as  this  same  land  was  bordered  on  every 
side  by  mountain  ranges,  or  by  the  boundless  table-land 
desert,  eastward  and  southward;  and  by  the  Great  Sea 
in  front.  Palestine  was  as  a  picture  of  many  and  bright 
colours,  set  in  a  broad  and  dull  frame. 

In  other  lands,  as  in  a  few  spots  in  England  and  at 
rare  moments — in  Greece,  and  its  islands,  often — in 
Italy,  at  a  few  points,  and  "in  many  of  the  Paradisaical 
islets  of  the  Eastern  Ocean,  and  of  the  Pacific,  there 
may  be  seen  that  which  the  eye  rests  upon  with  so 
much  pleasure  in  a  sultry  summer's  day — the  deep 
blue  or  purple  of  the  sleeping  ocean,  serving  to  give 


HEBREW    POETRY.  78 

brighter  splendour  to  a  foreground  of  luxurious  foliage, 
and  of  gay  flowers.  Trees,  shrubs,  festooning  climbers 
— garden,  and  wild  flowers,  then  most  recommend 
themselves  to  the  jiainter's  eye  when  the  bnckground  is 
of  that  deep  colour — the  like  to  which  there  is  nothing 
on  earth — the  purple  of  a  profound  sea,  shone  upon  by 
a  fervent  sun,  under  a  cloudless  sky.  But  then  in  none 
of  those  countries  or  islands  do  splendid  landscapes  of 
this  order  present  themselves  in  contrast  with  stony 
deserts,  dismal  as  the  land  of  death  !  But  in  Palestine 
— such  as  it  was  of  old — the  soft  graces  of  a  rural  scene 
— the  vine-covered  slopes — the  plains,  brilliant  wuth 
flowers,  the  wooded  glens  and  knolls — sparkling  with 
springs,  and  where  the  warbling  of  birds  invites  men  to 
tranquil  enjoyment — in  Palestine  there  is,  or  there  was, 
ever  at  hand  those  material  symbols  of  unearthly  good 
which  should  serve  to  remind  man  of  his  destination  to 
a  world  better  and  brighter  than  this. 

From  the  lofty  battlements  of  most  of  the  walled 
towns  the  ancient  inhabitant  of  Palestine  looked  west- 
ward upon  what  was  to  him  an  untraversed  world  of 
waters :  the  "  Great  Sea''  was  to  him  the  image  of  the 
infinite.  He  believed,  or  he  might  believe,  that  the 
waves  which  fell  in  endless  murmurs  upon  those  shores, 
had  come  on — there  to  end  a  course  which  had  begun 
— between  the  two  firmaments — where  the  sun  sinks 
nightly  to  his  rest.  From  the  opposite  turrets  of  the 
same  fenced  city  he  watched  for  the  morning,  and 
thence  beheld  the  celestial  bridegroom  coming  forth 
from  his  chambers  anew — rejoicing  as  a  strong  man 
to  run  a  race !  To  those  who  now,  for  an  hour,  will 
forget  our  modern  astronomy,  the  Syrian  sun-rising 
well  answers  to  the  imaginative  rendering  of  it  by  the 

4 


74  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

Poet : — the  sun,  as  it  flares  up  from  behind  the  moun- 
tain-wall of  Edoni,  seems  well  to  bear  out  whatever 
may  be  conceived  of  it,  as  to  its  daily  course  through 
the  heavens. 

Again,  the  ranges  of  Lebanon  might  be  called  a  sam- 
ple of  the  aspects  of  an  Alpine  region — a  specimen  of 
sublimities,  elsewhere  found  far  apart.  The  loftier  sum- 
mits— the  crown  of  Jebel-es-Sheikh — is  little  lower 
than  the  level  of  perpetual  snow  :  in  truth,  Hermon,  in 
most  years,  retains  throughout  the  summer  its  almond- 
blossom  splendour  ; — and  as  to  the  lower  ranges,  they 
overhang  slopes,  and  glades,  and  ravines,  and  narrow 
plains,  that  are  unrivalled  on  earth  for  wild  luxuriant 
beauty.  In  ancient  times  these  rich  valleys  were  man- 
tled with  cedar  forests  ;  and  the  cedar,  in  its  perfection, 
is  as  the  lion  among  the  beasts,  and  as  the  eagle  among 
the  birds.  This  majestic  tree,  compared  with  any 
others  of  its  class,  has  more  of  altitude  and  of  volume 
than  any  of  them  :  it  has  more  of  umbrageous  ampli- 
tude, and  especially  it  has  that  tranquil  aspect  of  vene- 
rable continuance  through  centuries  which  so  greatly 
recommends  natural  objects  to  the  speculative  and 
meditative  tastes.  The  cedar  of  Lebanon,  graceful  and 
serviceable  while  it  lives,  has  the  merit  of  preparing  in 
its  solids,  a  perfume  which  commends  it,  when  dead,  to 
the  noblest  uses  : — this  wood  invites  the  workman's 
tool  for  every  ingenious  device ;  and  its  odoriferous 
substance  is  such  as  to  make  it  grateful  alike  in  palaces 
and  in  temples. 

It  is  only  in  these  last  times — at  the  end  of  thirty 
centuries — that  a  river,  which  has  no  fellow  on  earth — 
which  has  poured  its  waters  down  to  their  rest  near  at 
hand  to  the  civilized  world,  and  has  been  crossed  at  many 


HEBREW    POETRY.  75 


points — it  is  only  now  that  it  has  come  to  be  understood ; 
and  the  mystery  of  its  seventy  miles  of  course  opened  up. 
Why  it  was  not  understood  long  ago  is  itself  a  mystery. 
The  brevity  of  ancient  authors,  who  touch  for  a  moment 
only  upon  subjects  the  most  exciting  to  modern  curiosity, 
is  indeed  an  exercise  of  jiatience  to  those  who,  for  the 
first  time,  come  to  acquaint  themselves  with  the  morti- 
fying fact  that  where  pages  of  description  are  eagerly 
looked  for — five  words,  or,  at  tlie  most,  as  many  lines,  are 
what  we  must  be  content  to  accept  at  their  hands.  Why 
did  not  Herodotus  describe  to  us  tlie  Al-Kuds — the 
Holy  city  which  he  visited  ?  Why  not  tell  us  something 
of  the  secluded  people  and  their  singular  worship?  So 
it  is  as  to  Diodorus,  and  Strabo,  and  Pliny;  and  so,  in 
many  instances,  is  it  with  the  prolix  Josephus :  who 
gives  us  so  often  more  than  we  care  to  read  ;  but  fails  to 
impart  the  very  information  which  Ave  are  in  need  of,  on 
points  of  importance.  The  Jordan — which,  physically 
and  historically  alike,  is  the  most  remarkable  river  in  the 
world — is  mentioned  by  ancient  authors  only  in  the 
most  cursory  maimer,  as  dividing  the  countries  on  its 
right  and  left  bank — or  as  emptying  itself  into  the 
Asphaltic  Lake.  Even  the  Biblical  writers,  although 
the  river  is  mentioned  by  them  very  often,  say  little  that 
implies  their  acquaintance  with  the  facts  of  its  physical 
peculiarities.  And  yet,  unconscious  as  they  seem  to 
have  been  of  these  f:icts,  they  drew  from  this  source 
very  many  of  their  images.  lias  there  ever  been  poetry 
where  there  is  not  a  river  ?  This  Jordan — rich  in 
aspects  alternately  of  gloom,  and  of  gay  luxuriance, 
sometimes  leaping  adown  rapids,  and  then  spreading 
itself  quietly  into  basinfi' — reaches  a  prison-house  whence 
there   is  no   escape  for  its  waters  but — upward  to  the 


76  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


skies!  Within  a  less  direct  distance  than  is  measured 
by  the  Thames  from  Oxford  to  the  Nore,  or  by  the 
Severn  from  Shrewsbury  to  the  Estuary  of  the  Bristol 
Channel,  or  by  thellumber,  or  the  Trent,  or  the  Tweed, 
in  their  main  breadths,  the  waters  of  the  Jordan  break 
themselves  away  from  the  arctic  glaciers  of  Hermon,  and 
■within  the  compass  of  one  degree  of  Latitude  give  a  tro- 
pical verdure  to  the  plains  of  Jericho,  where  the  sum- 
mer's heat  is  more  intense  than  anywhere  else  on  earth 
— unless  it  be  Aden.  To  conceive  of  these  extraordi- 
nary facts  aright,  we  should  imagine  a  parallel  instance, 
as  if  it  were  so  that,  in  the  midland  counties — or  be- 
tween London  and  Litchfield — perpetual  snow  sur- 
rounded the  one,  while  the  valley  of  the  Thames  should 
be  a  forest  of  palm-trees,  Avith  an  African  climate ! 

When  the  traveller  crosses  the  Ghor,  and  ascends 
the  wall  of  the  Eastern  table-land,  that  illimitable 
desert  spreads  itself  out  before  him  in  traversing  which 
meditative  minds  indulge  in  thoughts  that  break  away 
from  earth,  and  converse  with  whatever  is  great  and 
unchanging  in  an  upper  world.  If  we  retrace  our  steps 
in  returning  from  the  Eastern  desert,  and  recross  the 
Jordan,  travelling  southward,  we  come  upon  that  region 
of  bladeless  desolation  which  constitutes  the  wall  of  the 
Asphaltic  Lake,  on  its  western  side ;  yet  from  this  land 
of  gloom  a  few  hours'  journey  suffices  to  bring  into 
contrast  the  vineyards,  the  olive-groves,  the  orangeries, 
of  a  luxuriant  district — and  a  theatre  of  peaks,  ravines, 
gorges,  and  broken  precipices,  within  the  circle  of 
which  the  summers  and  the  winters  of  all  time  have 
effected  no  change  :  it  is  now,  as  it  was  thousands  of 
years  ago,  the  land  of  the  Shadow  of  Death — a  land 
where  the  lot  of  man  presents  itself  under  the  saddest 


HEBREW    POETRY  77 

aspects; — fur  the  Earth  is  there  a  i)rison-liouse,  and  the 
sail  overliead  is  tlie  iiifiicter  of  torment. 

Yet,  near  to  the  abodes  of  a  i)eople  among  wliom 
l)0\verfiil  emotions  are  to  find  symbols  for  their  utter- 
ance, there  is  found  one  other  natural  prodigy,  and  such 
as  is  unmatched  upon  the  surface  of  the  Earth  ; — for 
nowhere  else  is  there  a  hollow  so  deep  as  is  this  hollow  : 
there  is  no  expanse  of  water  that  sends  its  exhalations 
into  the  open  sky,  resembling  at  all  this  lake  of  bitumen 
and  sulphur.  And  what  might  that  chasm  show  itself 
to  be,  if  the  caldron  were  quite  emptied  out,  or  if  the 
■waters  of  the  Jordan  could  be  turned  aside  for  a  while 
into  the  Great  Sea,  leaving  evaporation  to  go  on  until 
the  lowest  rent  were  exposed  to  view !  Unfathomed, 
unfathomable,  is  this  lake  at  its  southern  end  : — its 
mysteries,  be  they  what  they  may,  are  veiled  by  these 
dense  waters  : — but  the  traveller,  conscious  as  now  he  is 
of  the  actual  depth  of  the  surface — so  far  below  the  level 
of  the  busy  world  as  it  is — needs  little  aid  of  the  imagi- 
nation to  persuade  himself  that  a  plunge  beneath  the 
surface  would  bring  him  upon  the  very  roofing  of  Sheol. 

It  is  the  wild  flowers  of  a  land  that  outlive  its  de- 
vastations : — it  is  these  that  outlive  the  disasters  or  the 
extermination  of  its  people : — it  is  these  that  outlive 
misrule,  and  that  survive  the  desolations  of  war.  It  is 
these  "  witnesses  for  God  " — low  of  stature  as  they 
are,  and  bright,  and  gay,  and  odoriferous — that,  because 
they  are  infructuous,  are  spared  by  marauding  bands. 
These  gems  of  the  plain  and  of  the  hill-side  outlast  the 
loftiest  trees  of  a  country  : — they  live  on  to  witness  the 
disappearance  of  gigantic  forests : — they  live  to  see  the 
extinction.!  of  the  cedar,  and  of  the  palm,  and  of  the  ilex, 
and  of  the  terebinth,  and  of  the  olive,  and  of  the  acacia, 


78  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

and  of  the  vine,  and  of  the  fig-tree,  and  of  the  myrtle : 
— tliey  live  to  see  fulfilled,  in  themselves,  the  word — 
"  every  high  thing  shall  be  brought  low ;  and  the 
linmble  shall  rejoice."  So  has  it  been  in  Palestine : 
once  it  was  a  land  of  dense  timber  growths,  and  of  fre- 
quent graceful  clusters  of  smaller  trees,  and  of  orchards, 
and  of  vineyards,  which  retains  now,  only  here  and 
there,  a  remnant  of  these  adornments.  Meanwhile,  the 
alluvial  plains  of  the  land,  and  its  hill  sides,  are  gay, 
every  spring,  with  the  embroidery  of  flowers — the 
resplendent  crocus,  the  scented  hyacinth,  the  anemone, 
the  narcissus,  the  daffodil,  the  florid  poppy,  and  the 
ranunculus,  the  tulip,  the  lily,  and  the  rose.  These 
jewels  of  the  spring  morning — these  children  of  the 
dew — bedded  as  they  are  in  spontaneous  profusion 
upon  soft  cushions  of  heather,  and  divans  of  sweet 
thyme — invite  millions  of  bees,  and  of  the  most  showy 
of  the  insect  orders : — flowers,  perfumes,  butterflies, 
birds  of  song,  all  things  luunble  and  beautiful,  here 
flourish,  and  are  safe — for  man  seldom  intrudes  upon 
the  smiling  wilderness ! 

Nevertheless,  skirting  the  flowery  plains  of  Palestine, 
in  a  few  spots,  there  are  yet  to  be  found  secluded 
glades,  in  which  the  cypress  and  the  acacia  maintain 
the  rights  of  their  order  to  live  ;  and  where,  as  of  old, 
"  the  birds  sing  among  the  branches."  And  so  live 
still,  on  spots,  the  fruit-bearing  trees — the  apricot,  the 
peach,  the  pear,  the  plum,  the  fig,  th^  orange,  the  cit- 
ron, the  date,  the  melon,  the  tamarisk,  and — noblest  of 
all  fruits— the  grape,  "that  maketh  glad  man's  heart:" 
all  still  exist,  as  if  in  demonstration  of  wiiat  God  has 
heretofore  done  for  this  sample  land  of  all  lands,  and 
may  do  again. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  79 


A  sample  land,  in  every  sense,  was  tlie  ancient  I*ales- 
tine  to  be,  and  therefore  it  was  so  in  its  climate.  The 
round  of  the  seasons  here  exhibits  a  greater  compass  of 
meteorolo<2:ic  changes — there  are  greater  intensities  of 
cold  and  of  heat — there  is  more  of  vehemence  in  wind, 
rain,  hail,  thunder,  lightning,  not  to  say  earthquake, 
than  elsewhere  in  any  country  between  the  same  paixil- 
lels  of  latitude^  and  within  limits  so  narrow.  Alto- 
gether unlike  to  this  condition  of  aerial  unquietness  are 
the  neighbouring  countries — Egypt,  Arabia,  Persia,  or 
Mesopotamia.  To  find  the  climate  of  Palestine  in  win- 
ter, or  in  summer,  we  must  include  a  fifteen  degrees  of 
latitude,  northward  and  southward  of  its  own. 

Already  we  have  adverted  to  those  physical  changes 
in  the  surrounding  countries  which,  in  the  course  of 
thirty  centuries,  have  very  materially  aft'ected  the  cli- 
mate of  Palestine :  the  reality  of  such  changes  can 
hardly  be  doubted.  Throughout  the  Psalms,  the  Book 
of  Job,  and  the  Prophets,  there  are  many  passages, 
relating  to  variations  of  temperature,  and  the  like,  which 
agree  much  rather  with  our  experience  in  England,  than 
they  do  with  what  is  now  common  to  Syria.  This  is 
certain  that  throughout  the  ages  during  which  the  Bib- 
lical literature  was  produced,  the  climate  of  Palestine 
was  such  as  to  render  its  allusions  to  the  external  world 
easily  intelligible  to  the  people  of  all  lands,  excepting 
only  those  of  the  arctic  circle.  How  much  more  intel- 
ligible, in  this  respect,  are  those  books,  than  they  would 
have  been  if  the  Poets  and  Prophets  of  the  Bible  had 
been  dwellers  in  Mesopotamia,  or  in  Egyi)t,  or  in 
Nubia,  or  in  Libya,  or  in  Thrace,  or  in  Southern  Tar- 
tary,  or  in  Northern  Europe,  or  in  North,  or  in  South 
America,  or  in  any  of  the  scattered  islets  of  the  Eastern 


80  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

Ocean !  Palestine,  situated  at  the  juncture  .of  conti- 
nents, at  the  head  of  seas,  at  the  centre  of  travel  by 
camel  or  ship,  is,  or  it  was  at  the  time  in  question,  as  to 
its  Fauna  and  its  Flora,  a  museum  land  ; — as  to  its  cli- 
mate, it  was  the  congener  of  all  climates— as  it  was 
also  in  its  adaptation  to  modes  of  life,  and  to  the  means 
of  subsistence.  Palestine  was  favourable  to  the  habits 
of  the  hunter,  the  herdsman,  the  agriculturalist,  the  gar- 
dener, the  vinedressei',  and  to  them  that  cultivate  the 
iig,  and  the  olive,  and  the  date-i^alm.  Palestine,  if  man 
be  there  to  do  his  part  with  his  hoe,  and  his  knife,  and 
his  plough,  is  at  once  an  Asiatic  country,  and  it  is 
European.  It  has  its  counterpart  in  Greece,  in  Italy, 
in  France,  in  England,  as  to  what  is  the  most  peculiar 
to  each  ;  and  so  it  is  that  the  Scriptures  of  the  Old 
Testament  are  intelligible  (in  those  allusions  to  Nature 
Avith  which  they  abound)  to  the  greater  number  of  the 
dwellers  on  earth  ;  and  that  the  countries  in  which  these 
allusions  might  not  be  understood  are  as  few  as  they 
could  be. 

It  is  not  possible  to  determine  how  far  changes  of 
climate  throughout  the  surrounding  countries  have  had 
influence  in  giving  to  the  aerial  aspect  of  Palestine  that 
clear,  sharp,  and  unpictorial  visibility  which  is  now  its 
characteristic.  This  clearness  does  not  fail  to  attract 
the  eye  of  the  traveller  who  visits  the  Holy  Land,  with 
the  aerial  phenomena  of  his  own  landscape  scenery  in 
his  recollection:  striking  is  the  contrast  that  presents 
itself  in  this  respect.  The  hill  country  of  Judea — itself 
now  bare,  and  almost  treeless — is  seen  through  a  me- 
dium which  throws  upon  its  hills  and  rocky  surfices  an 
aspect  of  hardness  and  poverty  :  so  it  is  that  the  home 
of  sacred  mysteries  is  itself  shrouded  in  no  mystery. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  81 

111  Englaiul,  ;i  distance  of  twenty  or  thirty  miles  is 
onoiigli  to  impart  to  mountain  ranges  the  pictorial 
charms  ot"  many  delicate  tints,  and  these  always  chang- 
ing ;  and  to  give  even  to  objects  less  remote  a  sort  of 
imreality,  grateful  to  the  eye  of  the  poet  and  tlie 
painter.  l>ut  it  is  not  so  in  Palestine,  where,  under 
ordinary  conditions  of  the  heavens,  a  range  of  hills, 
which  may  be  forty  or  fifty  miles  distant,  shows  itself  to 
be — what  it  is,  and  nothing  more  !  Illusions  of  the 
atmosphere  do  not  lend  the  distance  any  unreal  charms. 

Bring  together  from  the  stores  of  our  modern  English 
Poetry  those  passages  which  borrow  their  rich  colouring 
from  our  titfal  atmosphere  and  its  humidity : — the  soft 
and  golden  glozings  of  sunrise  and  sunset,  and  the  pearly 
distances  at  noon,  and  the  outbursts  of  sunbeam,  and 
the  sudden  overshadowings,  and  the  blendings  of  tints 
upon  all  distances  of  two  or  tliree  miles :  it  is  these 
atmospheric  illusions,  characteristic  of  a  climate  that  is 
humid,  and  yet  warm,  which  have  given  to  the  English 
taste  in  landscape  its  peculiarity,  and  which  shows  itself 
equally  in  the  national  poetry,  and  landscape-painting. 
That  sense  of  the  picturesque,  which  is  so  emiuently 
English,  must,  in  part,  at  least,  be  traced  to  those  aerial 
illusions  which  we  willingly  admit,  as  compensation  for 
the  discomforts  of  a  variable  climate. 

If  the  English  temper  be  moody,  and  if  its  tastes  are 
largely  inclusive  of  the  melancholic  element,  much  of 
this  sombreness  of  feeling,  and  its  tenderness,  is  no  doubt 
attributable  to  a  climate,  an  atmosphere,  a  sky,  that  are 
too  little  cheered  by  the  sun  :  and  the  national  poetic 
feeling,  with  its  wistfulness,  and  its  retrospective  depths 
of  feeling,  is  in  accordance  with  this  want  of  settled  fer- 
vent effulgence.    Among  the  deeper  shadows,  and  richer 


82  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

colours,  and  the  mysteriousnessof  the  latest  autumn,  the 
Poetry  of  England  takes  its  tone. 

But  the  English  traveller,  with  his  recollections  of  a 
home  landscape — its  grey  gentleness  of  tints,  and  its 
mysteries  of  shadow — should  prepare  himself  for  dis- 
a|)pointment  in  making  his  way  on  such  a  route  as  that 
from  Jaffa  to  Jerusalem  :  no  shadowy  illusions  are 
there  !  It  is  naked  reality  that  surrounds  him  far  and 
near  in  this  arid  land.  The  feeling  that  is  due  on  this 
surface  must  be  challenged  to  come  where  we  know  it 
oiKjht  to  come  :  and  it  is  not  what  he  sees,  but  what  he 
thinks  of,  that  gives  excitement  to  his  journey.  Enchant- 
ment has  been  dispelled  ;  let  then  the  gravest  thoughts 
take  the  place  of  agreeable  illusions  !  If  English  land- 
scape be  a  painting  in  oils,  the  Syrian  landscape  is  a 
painting  in  fresco  :  each  line  of  hills  cuts  its  hard  out- 
line— one  range  in  front  of  another — and  the  most 
remote  come  upon  the  sky  wdth  a  too  rigid  distinctness. 
At  an  early  hour  the  sun  drinks  up  all  moisture  from  the 
earth's  surface  ;  and  thenceforward  all  things  are  seen 
through  a  medium  that  is  perfectly  translucent.  In 
Palestine,  as  now  it  is,  Nature  exhibits  herself  as  a 
marble  statue — colourless  and  motionless  : — whereas  at 
home  we  are  used  to  see  her  less  fixed  in  her  attire,  and 
making  her  toilette  anew  from  hour  to  hour.  Has  it 
always  been  so  in  Palestine  as  now  it  is  ?  No  certain 
answer  can  be  given  to  this  question ;  yet  it  may  be 
believed  that,  in  the  times  of  David  and  of  Isaiah,  not 
only  was  the  land  itself  everywhere  richly  clad,  but  the 
atmosphere  had  a  changeful  aspect,  almost  as  much  so 
as  with  ourselves. 

And  yet  if  the  transparent  atmosphere  of  Syria,  under 
a  fervent  sun,  gives  too  much  of  naked  reality  to  the 


HEBREW    POETRY.  83 


landscape,  vast  is  the  advantage  wliicli  is  its  compensa- 
tion, ^vhen  the  sparkHng  magnitieence  of  the  slany 
heavens  takes  its  turn,  instead  of  the  tilings  of  earth,  to 
engage  the  meditative  eye.  Grant  it  that  the  day  there 
(now  at  least  it  is  so)  offers  a  spectacle  less  rich  than 
in  our  latitude  of  mists : — but  then  the  Night,  upon  the 
mountains  of  Israel,  opens  a  scene  incomparably  more 
sublime  than  we  are  used  to  witness.  There — it  seems 
so — bearing  down  upon  our  heads  with  power  are  the 
steadfast  splendours  of  that  midnight  sky  !  Those  only 
who  have  gazed  upon  the  starry  heavens  through  a  per- 
fectly transparent  atmosphere  can  understand  the  great- 
ness of  the  disadvantage  that  is  thrown  over  the  celestial 
field  by  an  atmosphere  that  is  never  well  purged  of  the 
exhalations  of  earth.  In  a  latitude  so  high  as  ours,  and 
which  yet  has  a  mean  temperature  higher  than  its 
degrees  should  give  it,  the  chill  of  the  night  serves  only 
to  shed  fog  or  mist  upon  the  lower  stratum  of  air ;  but 
in  warmer  climates, — and  in  no  country  is  it  more  so 
than  in  Syria, — the  vast  burden  of  the  \vatery  element 
which  the  fervour  of  day  has  raised  aloft  becomes, 
quickly  after  sunset,  a  prodigious  dew,  breaking  down 
upon  the  earth,  as  a  mighty,  yet  noiseless  deluge  : — the 
aerial  load  is  suddenly  thrown  off  upon  the  lap  of 
earth,  and  so  it  is  that,  almost  in  a  moment,  the  veil 
is  drawn  aside  from  the  starry  fields. 

The  planets,  and  the  stars  upon  which  the  sliepherds 
of  Palestine  were  used  to  gaze,  and  which  to  them  were 
guiding  lights,  do  not  seem  as  if  they  were  fain  to  go 
out  from  moment  to  moment  ;  but  each  burns  in  its 
socket,  as  a  lamp  that  is  well  fed  with  oil.  We,  in  this 
latitude,  have  borrowed — for  technical  purposes  in  our 
Astronomy — the  Chaldean  groupings  of  the  stars  into 


84:  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

contours  of  monsters  and  demi-gocls  ;  but,  unless  we 
had  so  borrowed  these  celestial  romances,  we  should 
never  have  imaghied  them  for  ourselves.  The  nightly 
heavens  in  warmer  climates  show  the  celestial  giants 
with  a  bold  distinctness  ;  and  under  those  skies  these 
imputed  forms  of  the  astral  clusters  look  down  U[)on  the 
earth  as  if  they  were  real  beings,  and  as  if  each  glowing 
cluster — Pleiades,  Orion,  Mazzaroth,  and  Arcturus,  and 
their  companions — w^ere  possessed  of  a  conscious  Hfe. 

The  pastoral  usages  of  Palestine  greatly  favoured  a 
meditative  and  religious  contemplation  of  the  starry 
heavens ;  and  throughout  long  periods  of  tlie  Hebrew 
national  life  in  which  the  land  had  its  rest  from  war, 
and  when  the  shepherd's  enemy  was  not  his  fellow-man, 
but  the  wolf  only,  and  the  lion,  and  the  bear  :  the  shep- 
herd— whose  own  the  sheep  were — passed  his  night 
abroad,  taking  his  rest  upon  the  hill-side  ;  and  these 
shepherds  were  often  of  a  mood  that  led  them  to  "  con- 
sider the  heavens,"  the  work  of  the  Creative  hand ;  and 
to  gather  from  those  fields  the  genuine  fruits  of  the 
highest  philosophy — which  is — a  fervent  piety.  The 
Palestinian  shepherd  of  that  age  did  indeed  misinterpret 
the  starry  heavens  in  a  sense ; — or,  we  should  say,  he 
was  at  fault  in  his  measurement  of  the  distance  betw^een 
the  celestial  roofing  above  him,  and  the  earth  on  which 
he  trod  ;  yet,  notwithstanding  this  error,  much  nearer 
did  he  come  to  the  firmament  of  universal  truth  than 
does  the  modern  atheist  astronomer,  who,  after  he  has 
found,  by  parallax,  the  distance  of  the  nearest  of  the 
stars,  professes  to  see  no  glory  in  the  heavens,  but  that 
of  the  inventors  of  his  astronomic  tools !  The  ladder 
which  rested  its  foot  upon  earth,  and  lodged  its  upper- 
most round  upon  the  pavement  of  heaven,  was  indeed 


HEBKEW    POETRY.  85 


of  far  greater  height  than  the  Syrian  shepherd  imagined 
it  to  be ;  nevertheless  it  was  to  him  a  firm  ladder  of 
trnth  ;  and  npon  it  have  passed  those  who  have  kept 
alive  the  interconrse  between  man  and  liis  Maker 
throngh  many  centuries. 

Always  with  some  high  prospect  in  view,  and  most 
often  when  he  had  a  message  of  rebuke  to  deliver,  the 
Hebrew  prophet  drew  many  of  his  symbols  from  those 
meteorologic  violences  which,  as  we  have  said,  are  of 
frequent  occurrence  in  Palestine.  Thus  it  wns  that  in 
predicting  the  overthrow  of  empires,  the  fall  of  tyrants, 
the  destruction  of  cities,  the  scattering  of  nations — the 
messenger  of  God  found,  ready  for  his  use,  a  figurative 
dialect  which  had  a  colloquial  import  among  the  people  ; 
besides  these  deluges  of  i-ain,  and  these  awful  thunder- 
ings  and  lightnings,  and  these  cataracts  of  hail,  the  peo- 
ple had  experience  of  the  terrors  of  earthquake — if  not 
of  volcanic  eruptions. 

It  was  thus,  therefore,  that,  within  limits  so  narrow 
as  those  of  the  land  occupied  by  the  Hebrew  people, 
provision  had  been  made  (may  we  not  use  this  phrase  ?) 
at  once  for  supplying  to  its  Poets,  in  the  greatest  abun- 
dance and  variety,  the  material  imagery  they  would 
need ;  and  for  bringing  within  tlie  daily  experiences  of 
tlie  people  every  condition  of  the  material  world  which 
could  be  made  available  for  the  purposes  of  a  figura- 
tive literature.  In  these  adjustments  of  the  country  to 
the  people,  and  of  both  to  the  ulterior  intention  of  A 
Revelation  for  the  world,  we  need  not  hesitate  to 
recognize  the  Divine  Wisdom,  making  preparation,  in  a 
marked  manner,  for  so  great  and  i)eculiar  a  work. 
Other  provisions,  having  the  same  meaning,  will  meet 
us  as  we  go  on.     Yet  at  this  point  there  is  an  inference 


8()  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

that  should  be  noted — namely,  this — That  the  mode 
or  style  of  a  communication  of  the  Will  of  God  to  the 
human  family  was  to  be  symbolical,  or  figurative  ;  and 
that  by  consequence  it  should  not  be  scientific  or  phi- 
losophic— or  such  as  could  be  interj^retable  in  an  abstract, 
or  an  absolute  sense. 

A  question  now  meets  ns,  an  answer  to  which  is  im- 
portant to  our  present  line  of  argument.  The  ancient 
Palestine,  we  have  said,  was  rich  in  its  material  garni- 
ture, as  related  to  the  needs  and  purposes  of  a  figura- 
tive literature.  And  so  are,  and  have  been,  other 
lands  ;  but  those  who  have  trod  the  soil  and  tilled  it 
may  have  had  little  or  no  tasteful  consciousness  toward 
the  aspects  of  Nature,  as  beautiful  or  sublime.  Poetry 
has  not  had  its  birth  among  them :  the  language  of  the 
people  has  reflected  only  the  primitive  intention  of  a 
colloquial  medium  ;  and  therefore  it  has  been  poor  in  its 
vocabulary  as  to  the  specific  difierences  of  objects,  and 
as  to  less  obtrusive  distinctions  among  objects  of  the 
same  class. 

In  these  respects,  then,  how  was  it  with  the  Hebrew 
people  ?  Writers  of  a  certain  class  have  allowed  them- 
selves to  repeat,  a  thousand  times,  the  unsustained  alle- 
gation that  this  people  was — "  a  rude  and  barbarous 
horde."  Do  we  find  it  to  be  such?  We  possess  por- 
tions of  the  people's  literature;  and,  more  than  this, 
we  have  in  our  hands  their  language ;  or,  at  least,  so 
much  of  it  as  suflices  for  putting  us  in  position,  on  sure 
grounds  of  analogy,  for  filling  in  some  of  the  chasms, 
and  for  safely  presuming  what  this  language  must  have 
been,  in  its  entireness,  when  it  was  the  daily  utterance 
of  the  people. 

A  difierence  should  here  be  noted,  as  to  the  inferences 


HEBREW    POETRY.  87 

that  are  Avari\'iiitably  derivable,  on  the  one  band,  from 
certain  literary  remains  of  an  aneient  people,  and,  on  tlie 
otber  band,  from  tbeir  language.,  so  fiir  as  tbis  may  be 
known  by  means  of  tbese  remains.  Among  a  rude  peo- 
ple tbere  may  bave  been  instances,  one  in  a  century,  of 
Nature's  gifted  spirits : — individual  minds,  ricb  and  pro- 
ductive, working  the  wonders  of  genius  in  solitary  self- 
sufficient  force.  In  such  instances — rare  indeed  they  are 
— the  tools,  the  materials  of  genius  are  wanting : — it 
was  not  a  rich  and  copious  language  that  was  at  the 
poet's  command  ;  for  the  "  horde  "  Avere  as  indigent  in 
thought  as  they  were  rude  in  their  modes  of  life.  How 
was  it  then  with  the  ancient  people  of  Palestine  ? 

A  people's  language  is  the  veracious  record  of  its 
entire  consciousness — intellectual,  moral,  domestic,  civil, 
political,  and  technical.  The  people's  glossary  is  the 
reflection — whether  clear  or  confused,  exact  or  inexact 
— first,  of  the  notice  it  took  of  Nature,  and  of  the 
material  world ;  and  then  of  its  own  inner  life  of  pas- 
sion, affection,  emotion ;  and  then  it  is  the  voucher  for 
the  people's  rate  of  civilization,  and  of  its  daily  observ- 
ances, its  occujiations,  and  the  customary  accidents  of 
tbese.  Whatever  is  in  the  language  is  now^  or  once 
was,  in  the  mind  and  the  life  of  the  people.  The  single 
words  of  the  language,  and  its  congested  phrases,  are 
tokens,  or  they  are  checks  with  which  some  corresj^ond- 
ing  reality  duly  tallied,  whether  or  not  any  extant  his- 
tory has  given  it  a  place  on  its  pages.  Exceptive 
instances  might  here  be  adduced ;  but  they  are  not  such 
as  would  interfere  with  our  argument  in  this  case. 
Races  that  have  fallen,  in  the  course  of  ages,  from  a 
higher  to  a  lower  stage  of  intellectual  and  social  advance- 
ment, may,  to  some  extent,  have  retained,  as  an  inheri- 


88  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

tance  which  they  do  not  occupy,  the  copious  glossary 
of  their  remote  ancestors. 

As  to  the  extent  and  the  richness  of  the  Hebrew 
tonoriie  at  the  time  when  it  was  the  lan2;ua<T:e  of  common 
life,  or  during  the  twelve  centuries  from  the  Exodus  to 
the  Captivity,  there  must  be  some  uncertainty  ;  not 
merely  because  the  extant  remains  of  the  Hebrew  lite- 
rature is  of  limited  extent,  but  because  these  remains 
are  of  two  or  three  kinds  only,  and — whatever  may  be 
their  kind — they  have  one  and  the  same  inte7ition. 
The  writers,  whether  historians,  moralists,  poets,  pro- 
phets, are  none  of  them  discursive  on  the  fields  of 
tliought :  not  one  of  them  allows  himself  the  liberty  to 
wander  at  leisure  over  the  regions  of  fancy,  or  of  specu- 
lation. Each  of  them  has  received  his  instructions,  and 
is  the  bearer  of  a  message ;  and  he  hastens  onw^ard  to 
acquit  himself  of  his  task.  Inasmuch  as  the  message 
should  command  all  attention  from  those  to  whom  it  is 
delivered,  so  it  must  seem  to  conmiand  the  whole  mind 
of  the  messenger,  and  to  rule,  and  to  overrule,  his 
delivery  of  it.  Tims  it  is  that  copiousness  and  variety 
should  not  be  looked  for  within  the  compass  of  books 
which  not  only  have  all  of  them  a  religious  purpose,  but 
which  si:)eak  also  in  the  prescribed  terms  of  an  author- 
ity. Such  writings  are  likely  to  take  up  much  less 
of  the  colloquial  medium  than  would  be  found  in  the 
miscellaneous  and  unconstrained  productions  of  writers 
whose  purpose  it  was  to  entertain  the  idle  hours  of  their 
contemporaries. 

Unless  the  botanies  of  Solomon  were  an  exception,  it 
might  be  that  the  Hebrew  people  had  no  literature 
beside  their  religious  annalists,  and  their  prophets.  Yet 
we  may  believe  that  the  talk  of  common  life,  through- 


HEBREW    POETRY.  89 

out  the  ancient  Palestine,  contained  a  large  amount  of 
words  and  i)hrases  which  have  found  no  place  in  the 
extant  Hebrew  books  : — tJiese  books  have  immortalized 
for  our  Lexicons  perhaps  not  more  than  a  third  part  of 
the  spoken  tongue.  If,  therefore,  it  were  affirmed  that 
the  Hebrew  language  is  not  copious,  or  rich  in  syno- 
nyms, what  might  be  understood  is  this  (if,  indeed,  this 
be  true,  which  it  is  not)  that  its  extant  sacred  literature 
is  not  rich  in  words.  But  even  if  this  were  allowed, 
then  the  question  would  return  uj^on  us — whether  the 
popular  mind  was  not  vividly  conscious  toward  the  two 
worlds — the  material,  and  tlie  immaterial — toward  tlie 
outer  and  the  inner  life  ?  There  is  evidence  that  it  was 
so :  there  is  evidence  in  contradiction  of  modern  nuo:a- 
tory  assertions  concerning  "the  rude  and  barbarous 
horde."  A  people  is  not  rude  that  notes  all  diversities 
in  the  visible  world  ;  nor  is  it  harharous  if  its  lano-uaixe 
abounds  in  phrases  that  are  the  need  of  the  social,  the 
domestic,  and  the  benign  emotions. 

Proof  conclusive  to  this  effect  is  contained,  by  neces- 
sary implication,  in  the  fact  that  the  Hebrew  people 
were  addressed  ordinarily  by  their  Teachers  in  a  mode 
which  (as  to  its  structure)  is  subjected  to  the  difficult 
conditions  of  elaborate  metrical  rules,  and  in  the  style 
of  that  fervid  and  figurative  phraseology  which  is  evi- 
dence of  the  existence  among  the  people  of  an  imagina- 
tive consciousness,  and  of  an  emotional  sensibility,  far 
more  acute  than  that  of  the  contemporary  nations  of 
whom  we  have  any  knowledge.  The  Prophets  and 
Poets  of  this  people  use  the  material  imagery — the  bold 
metonyms,  the  transmuted  phrases — of  the  imaginative 
and  emotional  style  with  an  ease  and  a  naturalness 
which  indicates  the  existence  of  corresponding  intellec- 


90  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

tual  habitudes  in  the  popular  mind.  As  was  the  Prophet, 
sucli,  no  doubt,  were  the  Prophet's  hearers — obdurate 
and  gainsaying  often  ;  nevertheless  they  were  accessible 
always  to  those  modes  of  address  Avhich  are  intelligible, 
even  to  the  most  obdurate,  when  they  have  belonged  to 
the  discipline  and  economy  of  every  man's  earliest  years. 
Every  man's  better  recollections  Avere  of  a  kind  that  put 
him  in  correspondence  with  the  Prophet's  style,  when 
he  rebuked  the  vices,  and  denounced  the  wrong-doings 
of  later  life. 

The  crowds  assembhng  in  the  courts  of  the  Temple, 
where  the  Inspired  man  took  his  seat,  and  the  promis- 
cuous clusters  that  surrounded  the  pillars  whereupon  the 
Prophet's  message  was  placarded,  found  the  language 
of  these  remonstrances  to  be  familiar  to  their  ears.  The 
terms  and  the  style  went  home  to  the  conscience  of  the 
hearer : — these  utterances  did  not  miss  their  aim  by  a 
too  lofty  upshot :  they  took  the  level  of  the  popular 
intellect ;  and  so  it  Avas  that,  as  well  the  luxurious 
princes  of  the  people  as  the  wayfaring  man,  though  of 
the  idiotic  class,  might  read  and  understand  the  Divine 
monition. 

Inasmuch  as  the  poetic  and  symbolic  style  draws  its 
materials  from  the  objects  of  sense,  it  is  implied  that  the 
popular  mind  has  a  vivid  consciousness  of  these  objects, 
and  is  observant  of  the  specific  diversities  of  the  natural 
world.  This  discriminative  consciousness  undoubtedly 
belonged  to  the  popular  Hebrew  mind.  The  proof  is 
this — that  if  Ave  take  as  an  instance  any  one  class  of 
natural  objects — earth,  air,  water,  the  animal  orders,  or 
the  vegetable  Avorld — Ave  shall  find,  in  the  HebrcAV  Glos- 
sary, as  large  a  number — as  good  a  choice — of  distinc- 
tive  terms,   thereto   belonging,    as  is  furnished  in  the 


HEBREW    POETRY.  91 


vocabularies  of  other  tongues,  one  or  two  only  excepted. 
We  may  easily  bring  our  affirmation  to  the  test  of  a  sort 
of  comparative  estimate,  as  thus: — 

England  is  a  sea-girt  land,  and  it  is  a  land  of  rivers, 
and  streaiiis,  and  springs,  and  brooks,  and  lakes,  and 
pools,  and  p'onds,  and  canals,  and  ditches;  it  is  also  a 
land  in  which  rural  employments  and  out-of-doors  habi- 
tudes prevail :  it  is  a  country  in  which  the  mass  of  the 
people  has  lived  much  abroad,  and  has  dwelt  amidst 
humidity.  Nevertheless  fifty  or  sixty  words  exhaust 
the  vocabulary  of  the  English  tongue  in  this  watery 
department.  More  than  this  number  are  not  easily 
producible,  either  from  our  writers,  or  from  colloquial 
usage.  With  this  number  our  poets  have  contented 
themselves,  from  Chaucer  to  these  times.  France  is  also 
a  sea-girt  land,  and  it  is  well  watered ;  but  its  vocables 
of  this  class  are  not  more  in  number  than  our  own. 
But  now,  although  a  portion  only  of  the  language  of  the 
Hebrew  people  has  come  down  to  us  in  the  canonical 
books,  this  portion  brings  to  our  knowledge  as  many  as 
fifty  words  of  this  one  class :  it  is  not  to  be  doubted 
that  in  the  colloquial  parlance  of  the  people  many  more 
words  had  place ; — as  many,  probably,  as  would  fully 
sustain  our  affirmation  as  to  the  comparative  copiousness 
of  this  tongue.  In  allowing  sixt]/  words  of  this  class  to 
the  English  language,  many  are  included  which  are 
technical  or  geographical,  rather  than  natural  or  collo- 
quial, and  which  are  rarely  occurrent  in  literature — sel- 
dom, if  ever,  in  religious  writings.  Such  are  the  words 
— Roadstead,  Estuary,  Watershed  (American),  Lock, 
Canal,  Drain,  Bight. 

There  is  yet  another  ground  of  comparison  on  which 
an  estimate  may  be  formed  of  the  relative  copiousness 


92  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

of  languages.  It  is  that  wliich  is  afforded  by  collating 
a  translation  with  the  original — in  this  manner — to 
take  as  an  instance  the  class  of  words  already  referred 
to.  The  Hebrew  Lexicon,  as  we  have  said,  gives  us  as 
many  as  fifty  words  or  phrases  which  are  representative 
of  natural  objects  of  this  one  class;  and  each  of  these 
terms  has — if  we  may  take  the  testimony  of  lexicogra- 
phers— a  well-defined  meaning  of  its  own.  We  have 
then  to  inquire  by  how  many  words  are  these  fifty  repre- 
sented in  the  Authorized  English  version.  We  find  in 
this  version  twenty-five  words  answering  for  the  fifty  of 
the  Hebrew — apparently  because  the  English  language, 
at  the  date  of  this  version,  did  not  furnish  a  better 
choice.  In  very  many  places  the  same  English  word 
does  duty  for  five,  six,  or  seven  Hebrew  words — each  of 
which  has  a  noticeable  significance  of  its  own,  and  might 
fairly  claim  to  be  represented  in  a  translation.  As  for 
instance  the  three  words  River,  Brook,  Spring,  are 
employed  as  a  sufficient  rendering  of  eight  or  ten  He- 
brew words,  each  of  which  conveyed  its  proper  sense  to 
the  Hebrew  ear,  and  might  not  well  have  given  place  to 
a  more  generic,  or  less  distinctive  term. 

A  collation  of  the  Greek  of  the  Septuagint — say,  in  any- 
one of  the  descriptive  Psalms — will  give  a  result  equally 
significant,  we  think  more  so,  as  evidence  of  what  may 
be  called  the  picturesque  or  the  poetic  copiousness  of 
this  ancient  language  ;  and  in  a  note  at  the  end  of  the 
volume  the  reader  who  may  wish  to  pursue  the  sugges- 
tions here  thrown  out  will  find  some  further  aid  in 
doing  so. 

The  conclusion  with  which  we  are  here  concerned  is 
this — That,  whereas  the  ancient  Palestine  was  a  land 
richly  furnished  with  the  materials  of  a  metaphoric  and 


HEBREW    POETRY.  93 

poetic  literature,  so  were  the  people  of  a  temperament 
and  of  habitudes  such  as  made  them  vividly  conscious 
of  the  distinctive  features  of  the  material  world,  as  these 
were  presented  to  them  in  their  every-day  life  abroad. 
As  proof  sufficient  of  these  averments  we  appeal,  j^r^?, 
to  the  obvious  characteristics  of  their  extant  literature ; 
and  then,  to  the  fact  of  the  richness,  and  the  copious- 
ness, and  the  picturesque  distinctiveness  of  their  lan- 
guage, which  in  these  respects  well  bears  comparison 
with  other  languages,  ancient  or  modern 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE  TRADITION  OF   A  PARADISE  IS  THE  GERM  OF  POETRY, 

The  golden  conception  of  a  Paradise  is  the  Poet's  guid- 
ing thought.  This  bright  Idea,  which  has  suffused  itself 
amonir  the  traditions  of  Eastern  and  of  Western  nations 
in  many  mythical  forms,  presents  itself  in  the  Mosaic 
books  in  the  form  of  substantial  history  ;  and  the  concep- 
tion, as  such,  is  entirely  Biblical.  Genuine  Poetry  follows 
where  a  true  Theology  leads  the  way  ;  and  the  one  as 
well  as  the  other  must  have — Truth  in  History — as  its 
teacher  and  companion.  It  is  in  the  style  and  mode  of 
a  true  history  tliat  we  receive  the  theologic  principle  of 
a  Creation  which  was  faultless,  at  the  first.  The  begin- 
ning of  history  thus  coincides  with  that  first  axiom  of 
Rehgion  which  aflirras  all  things  to  be  of  God,  and  all 
perfect.  A  morning  hour  of  the  human  system  there 
was  when  man — male  and  female — unconscious  of  evil, 
and  unlearned  in  suffering,  was  inheritor  of  immortality. 
In  this  belief  Piety  takes  its  rise  ;  and  in  this  conception 
of  the  tranquil  plenitude  of  earthly  good — a  summer's 
day  of  hours  unnumbered  and  unclouded — Poetry  has 
its  source  ;  and  toward  this  Idea — retained  as  a  dim 
hope — it  is  ever  prone  to  revert.  The  true  Poet  is  the 
man  in  whose  constitution  the  tendency  so  to  revert  to 
this  Idea  is  an  instinct  born  with  him,  and  with  whom  it 
has  become  a  habit,  and  an  inspiration. 

Whatever  it  may  be,  within  the  compass  of  Poetry, 


HEBREW    POETRY.  95 

that  is  the  most  resplendent,  and  whatever  it  is  tliat 
awakens  the  profoundcst  emotions — whether  they  be 
joyful  or  sorrowful — whatever  it  is  that  breathes  ten- 
derness, as  well  as  whatever  kindles  hope — draws  its 
power  so  to  touch  the  springs  of  feeling  from  the  same 
latent  conception  of  a  perfectness  and  a  happiness  pos- 
sible to  man,  and  which,  when  it  is  set  forth  in  words, 
presents  itself  as  a  tradition  of  Paradise.  Poetry,  of 
any  class,  would  take  but  a  feeble  hold  of  the  human 
mind — distracted  as  it  is  with  cares,  broken  as  it  is  with 
toils,  sorrowing  in  recollection  of  yesterday,  and  in  fear 
as  to  to-morrow — if  it  did  not  find  there  a  shadowy 
belief,  like  an  almost  forgotten  dream,  of  a  world  where 
once  all  things  were  bright,  gay,  pure,  and  blessed  in 
love.  The  Poet  comes  to  us  in  our  troubled  mood,  pro- 
fessing himself  to  be  one  who  is  qualified  to  put  before 
us,  in  the  vivid  colours  of  reality,  these  conce{»tions  of  a 
felicity  which  we  vaguely  imagine,  and  think  of  as  lost 
to  humanity ;  and  which  yet,  perhaps,  is  recoverable. 
We  turn  with  distaste — even  with  contempt  or  resent- 
ment— from  the  false  professor  of  the  noblest  of  arts 
whose  creations  contain  no  recognition,  explicit  or  tacit, 
of  this  proper  element  and  germ  of  true  Poetry. 

Whether  or  not  a  belief  of  this  kind  may  have  obtained 
a  place  in  our  Creed,  the  feeling  is  deep  in  every  human 
spirit,  to  this  eflTect — That,  at  some  time — w^e  know  not 
when — in  some  world,  or  region — Ave  know  not  Avhere — 
the  brightest  of  those  things  Avhich  the  Poet  imagines 
were  realized  in  the  lot  of  man.  But  is,  then,  this 
conception  an  illusion  ?  Is  it  a  myth  that  has  had 
no  warrant  ?  It  is  not  so,  nor  may  we  so  think  of  it. 
If  there  had  been  no  such  reality,  there  could  have  been 
no  such  imagination.     If  there  had  been  no  Garden  of 


96  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


Eden,  as  a  first  page  in  human  history,  never  should  the 
soothings  of  Poetry  have  come  in  to  cheer  the  gloom  of 
common  life,  or  to  temper  its  griefs  ; — never  should  its 
aspirations  have  challenged  men  to  admit  other  thoughts 
than  those  of  a  sensual  or  a  sordid  course. 

Four  words — each  of  them  full  of  meaning — comprise 
the  conceptions  which  we  attribute  to  the  Paradisaical 
state.  They  are  these — Ixxocence,  Love,  Rural  Life, 
Piety  ;  and  it  is  toward  these  conditions  of  earthly  hap- 
piness that  the  human  mind  reverts,  as  often  as  it  turns, 
sickened  and  disappointed  from  the  pursuit  of  whatever 
else  it  may  ever  have  laboured  to  acquire.  The  Inno- 
cence which  Ave  here  think  of  is  not  virtue,  recovered: — 
it  is  not  virtue  that  has  passed  through  its  season  of  trial ; 
but  it  is  Moral  Perfectness,  darkened  by  no  thought  or 
knowledge  of  the  contrary.  This  Paradisaical  Love  is 
conjugal  fondness,  free  from  sensuous  taint.  This  Rwxil 
Life  is  the  constant  flow  of  summer  days — spent  in  gar- 
dens and  a-field — exempt  from  exacted  toil.  This  Piety 
of  Paradise  is  the  grateful  approach  of  the  finite  being 
to  the  Infinite — a  correspondence  that  is  neither 
clouded,  nor  is  apprehensive  of  a  cloud. 

It  was  in  the  fruition  of  each  of  these  elements  of 
good  that  the  days,  or  the  years,  or  the  centuries,  of 
the  Paradisaical  era  were  passed  ;  and  it  was  then  that 
those  things  which  to  their  descendants  are  Poetry,  to 
these — the  parents  of  Mankind — were  realities.  Each 
of  these  conditions  of  earthly  well-being  was  indispen- 
sable to  the  presence  and  preservation  of  the  others; 
for  there  could  be  no  Paradise  if  any  one  of  them  were 
supposed  to  be  Avanting  or  impaired.  "Without  inno- 
cence earthly  good  is  a  debasing  sensuality  : — without 
love  it  is  selfishness  and  war  : — without  piety  earthly 


HEBREW    POETRY.  97 


good,  at  the  a' ery  best,  is  the  dream  of  a  day  in  prospect 
of  an  eternal  night ;  and  to  imagine  a  Paradise  planted 
in  the  heart  of  cities  is  a  conception  that  is  almost 
inconceivable. 

In  like  manner  as  there  could  be  no  Paradise  in  the 
absence  of  these,  its  four  elements,  so  neither  can  there 
be  Poetry  wliere  these  are  not  its  inspiration,  its  theme, 
or  its  intention  :  or  if  not,  we  put  it  away  as  either  a 
mockery  of  the  sadness  of  human  life,  or  as  a  vilifying 
slander.  Love  must  be  the  soul  of  poetry  :  Purity  must 
be  its  puri)Ose  and  aim: — Nature  abroad  must  be  its 
desire,  and  its  chosen  enjoyment,  and  Piety  must  be  its 
aspiration.  From  Poetry  that  has  no  correspondence 
with  these  conditions  of  a  Paradise  we  turn  in  dull  des- 
pair to  resume  the  heavy  task  of  life ;  for  if  so,  then 
beyond  its  austere  conditions  there  is  nothing  in  pros- 
pect of  humanity  : — the  path  we  tread  must  be  a  con- 
tinuity of  care  in  sullen  progress  to  the  grave. 

We  take,  then,  the  Mosaic  Paradise  as  the  germ  of  all 
Poetry ;  and  unless  this  first  chapter  of  human  history 
be  regarded  as  real — as  true — it  could  stand  in  no  rela- 
tionship to  those  deep-seated  instincts — those  slumbering 
beliefs  of  possible  felicity,  which  this  tradition  has  fed 
and  conserved  in  the  human  soul.  If  this  first  chapter 
be  a  fable,  then  we  reject  this  belief  also  as  a  delusion. 
But  it  is  not  a  delusion ;  and  as  often  as  a  group  of 
children,  with  ruddy  cheek  and  glistening  eye,  is  seen 
sporting  in  a  meadow,  filling  their  chubby  hands  with 
cowslips — laughing  in  sunshine — instinct  with  blameless 
glee — then  and  there,  if  we  will  see  it,  we  may  find  a 
voucher  for  the  reality  of  a  Paradise  which  has  left  an 
imprint  of  itself  in  the  depth  of  every  heart  :  the  same 
truth  is  attested  with  the  emphasis  of  a  contrast  when 

5 


98  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

— infancy  and  childlioocl,  sporting  and  merry  at  the 
entrance  of  a  city  den,  and  still  snatcliing  from  the  pave- 
ment a  foded  handful  of  flowers,  speaks  of  this  instinct, 
and  exhibits  the  pertinacity  of  a  belief  which  no  pres- 
sure of  actual  wretchedness  can  entirely  dispel. 

Man  in  the  garden  of  God,  accepting,  as  the  gift  of 
his  Creator,  the  plenitude  of  earthly  good,  combined  in 
his  lot  Poetry  and  reality,  which  in  the  experience  of 
his  descendants  are  always  severed ;  and  yet  the  first  of 
these  is  not  lost,  although  it  stands  aloof.  In  ten 
thousand  ordinary  minds  there  is  an  element  latent 
which,  in  the  one  in  ten  thousand,  quickens  and  becomes 
productive.  The  musings  and  the  yearnings  of  millions 
of  souls  are  so  many  inarticulate  utterances  of  a  dream- 
like conception  of  innocence,  love,  ease,  leafy  fragrant 
bowers,  and  shining  skies,  which  those  who  have  never 
found  these  things  in  their  lot,  nevertheless  persist  in 
thinking  have  been  wanting  in  it  only  through  adverse 
accidents  and  their  evil  stars !  So  long  as  sorrow^s, 
regrets,  remorses,  broken  promises,  broken  hopes,  con- 
tinue to  call  forth  sighs,  and  to  moisten  cheeks  with 
tears — ^^so  long  as  blighted,  or  wounded,  or  wasted  afl:*ec- 
tions  eat  as  a  canker  into  sensitive  hearts,  so  long  as 
the  bereaved,  and  the  friendless,  and  the  homeless,  and 
the  lost,  continue  to  think  themselves  unblessed,  though 
they  might  have  been  blessed,  then  will  these  many 
suiFerers  be  dreaming  of  a  lot  which  can  never  be  theirs, 
wherein  the  bright  conditions  of  a  lost  Paradise  should 
have  been  represented,  if  not  fully  realized. 

Refine  these  yearning  beliefs — train  them  in  artistic 
expression,  and  then  the  product  is — Poetry  ;  and  how 
elaborate  soever  this  product  may  be,  it  has  had  its  rise 
in  what  was  once  as  real,  as  are  now  its  contraries.     If 


HEBREW    POETRY.  99 

it  had  not  long  ago  been  real  it  would  have  had  no 
power  to  generate  the  unreal^  which  has  ever  floated 
before  the  imagination  of  .mankind : — there  are  no 
dreams  where  there  have  been  no  substances. 

Let  it  be  so  now  that  we  listen  to  the  exceptions 
of  a  captious  and  gratuitous  criticism,  and  that,  at  its 
instance,  we  consent  to  remove  from  the  book  of 
Genesis  its  initial  portions  !  Let  it  be  tliat  two,  three, 
or  more  chapters  of  tliis  book  'are  rejected  as  "  not 
historical."  If  so,  then  that  which  has  rooted  itself  in 
human  nature,  lias  itself  no  root!  If  it  be  so,  then 
dreams  have  sprung  of  dreams  in  endless  series : — 
if  so,  and  if  Poetry  takes  no  rise  in  History,  then 
must  a  deeper  darkness  spread  itself  as  a  pall  over  tlie 
abounding  evils,  sorrows,  pains,  and  terrors  that  attend 
humanity.  Thenceforward  let  it  be — for  who  shall  dare 
to  gainsay  Satan  the  Antiquarian  ! — let  it  be  so  that  not 
only  pain  and  toil,  want,  care,  and  grief,  but  also  cruelty, 
w^rong,  violence,  and  war,  shall  proclaim  an  eternal 
triumph  !  The  monster  henceforward  takes  a  firmer 
grasp  of  his  victim  : — if  it  be  so — then,  for  aught  we 
know,  the  rights  of  this  tyranny  are  immemorially 
ancient : — they  are  as  old  as  "  the  human  period  "  of 
Geology  : — for  aught  we  know,  the  kingdom  of  Evil  is 
from  everlasting,  and  it  shall  be  everlasting. 

It  shall  not  be  so.  Give  me  back  that  which  a 
genuine  criticism  allows  me  to  retain — the  initial  chap- 
ters of  the  Mosaic  record.  Give  me — not  as  a  myth, 
but  as  a  history — the  beginning  of  the  human  family  in 
its  Eden,  and  then  a  darkness  is  dispelled  :  then  hope 
and  peace  are  still  mine  (and  Poetry  also),  for  if  this 
Proem  of  human  history  may  stand  approved,  then  on 
the  skirts  of  the  thickest  gloom  a  brightness  lingers. 


100  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


If  there  was  once  fi  Paradise  on  eartli,'  tlien  I  know  how 
to  see  and  acknowledge,  as  the  gifts  of  God,  whatever 
is  good  and  fair  in  my  actual  lot,  and  whatever  is 
graceful;  and  whatever  is  in  nature  beautiful,  and  wiiat- 
ever  it  is  which  art  elaborates,  and  which  genius  exalts. 
In  all  these  graces  of  life  I  see  so  many  vouchers  for 
the  fact  that  this  Earth  once  had  a  Paradise. 

And  this  is  not  all — for,  with  the  same  Mosaic  belief 
as  my  ground  of  speculation — my  turret  of  observa- 
tion, I  may  look  upwards  and  around  me  upon  the 
sparkling  fields  of  the  infinite,  and  then  am  free  to 
surmise,  what  I  have  reason  to  infer  from  an  actual 
instance ;  and  thus  I  may  assuredly  believe  that,  upon 
millions  of  worlds,  there  are  now,  and  will  be,  gardens 
of  God,  where  all  is  fair  and  good. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

BIBLICAL    IDEA    OF    PATRIAKCHAL   LIFE. 

Paradise  was  lost !  Nevertheless,  in  accordance 
with  the  prmis3val  Biblical  Idea,  the  religious  man — 
the  chief  of  a  family — was  permitted  to  enjoy,  through 
a  long  term  of  years,  a  terrestrial  lot  in  which  were 
conserved  the  rudiments,  at  least,  of  the  forfeited  feli- 
city, and  thus  through  the  lapse  of  centuries  a  concej)- 
tion  of  Life  on  Earth  was  authenticated,  in  meditation 
upon  which  Piety  might  re-ass*ire  its  confidence  in  the 
Divine  wisdom  and  goodness. 

The  Patriarclial  Idea  is  Oriental,  not  European  ;  it 
excludes  the  energy,  the  individual  development,  the 
progress,  that  are  characteristic  of  the  Western  races: 
— it  is — Repose,  and  the  fruition  of  unambitious  well- 
being.  The  Patriarchal  life,  in  part  nomadic,  in  part 
precariously  dependent  upon  tJie  chase,  in  part  agricul- 
tural and  of  the  vine  culture  ; — the  life  of  the  tent, 
more  than  of  strongliolds  and  walls,  combines  tliose 
conditions  of  earthly  existence  which  are  the  most 
favourable  to  religious  contemplative  tranquillity,  and 
under  which  the  sanctities  of  the  domestic  relation- 
sliips  should  be  reverentially  conserved.  Within  tlie 
precincts  of  this  economy  of  unwritten  ol)liiiation 
and  of  traditional  veneration,  piety  toward  God — 
the  Invisible — was  a  higher  species  of  that  filial  regard 
of  which  the  senior  and  tlie  chief  was  the  visible  centre. 


102  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

The  Patriarchal  Idea  is  wholly  Biblical,  and  as  such 
it  has  suifiised  itself  through  the  poetry  of  modern  na- 
tions. And  there  is  much  in  the  mild  domestic  usages 
and  sentiments  of  modern  nations  that  is  to  be  traced 
up  to  its  rise  in  this  conception.  It  is  Bihlical^  not 
merely  because  it  is  monotheistic  in  doctrine ;  but  be- 
cause also  it  gives  a  most  decisive  prominence  to  the 
belief  of  the  near-at-hand  providence  of  God — of  IIi:\r 
that  immediately  orders  and  appoints  and  controls  all 
events  affecting  the  individual  man.  This  ever-present 
Almighty — Righteous  and  Benign — the  Hearer  of 
prayer — the  Giver  of  all  good — the  Avenger  of  wrong 
— is  held  forth,  and  is  vividly  brought  within  range  of 
human  conceptions  in  the  incidents  of  the  Patriarchal 
history.  Far  away  from  the  interference  of  futile  spe- 
culative questionings,  these  religious  beliefs,  as  exem- 
plified in  the  life  of  the  servants  of  God,  received  at 
once  an  historic  warranty,  and  a  dramatic — or,  it  might 
be  said,  even  a  picturesque — realization,  in  the  records 
of  this  era. 

The  Paradisaical  elements  are  conserved  in  the  Patri- 
archal life — each  of  them  attempered  by  blending  itself 
with  whatever  in  the  actual  lot  of  man  has  become  sad- 
dened by  his  sins  and  frailty — by  his  jiains,  his  toils, 
his  cares ;  and  it  thenceforward  presents  itself  as  if  in 
shining  fragments,  commingled  \\ith  the  ruins  of  pur- 
poses frustrated — hopes  shattered. 

Within  and  around  the  patriarchal  encampment,  near 
to  the  springs  and  the  palms  of  the  sultry  wilderness, 
we  are  to  find — in  the  place  of  Innocence — Virtue — 
put  to  the  proof,  and  not  always  triumphant  in  its  con- 
flict with  temptation.  Within  this  enclosure,  instead 
of  unsullied,  uncontradicted  Love,  there  are  yet  heard 


HEBREW    POETRY.  103 

tlie  deep  yearnings  of  domestic  affection,  rendered  in- 
tense by  tearful  sympathies ;  perliaps  by  resentments, 
that  strike  into  the  very  roots  of  human  feeling. 
Around  this  enclosure  are  assembled,  not  the  wild  ani- 
mal orders  in  awe  of  their  lord — doing  homage  to  man; 
but  flocks  and  herds,  the  product  of  his  provident  and 
laborious  care.  Instead  of  a  garden,  wildly  luxuriant  in 
flowers  and  fruits,  there  are  trim  enclosures  of  esculent 
plants — flowers  and  perfumes  giving  way  to  roots  and 
fruits : — thei-e  may  be  heard  the  singing  of  birds  ; — yet 
this  is  less  heeded  than  the  lowing  of  kine.  Human 
existence  is  in  its  state  of  transition — conserving  as 
much  of  its  primanal  felicity  as  shall  be  the  solace  and 
excitement  of  a  life  which  still  may  be  happy,  if  man 
be  wise ;  and  the  wisdom,  which  is  to  ensure  his  wel- 
fare, is  that  to  which  the  patriarchal  altar  gave  its  sanc- 
tion. The  Divine  favour  is  there  pledged  to  the  obedient 
and  devout ;  but  it  is  pledged  under  conditions  which 
are,  in  the  simplest  mode,  ritual,  and  which,  while  they 
assure  the  worshipper  in  his  approach  to  God,  restrict 
him  also. 

The  Patriarchal  man  knew  that  he  had  forfeited  ter- 
restrial immortality,  and  that  his  years  on  earth  Avere 
numbered ;  and  yet,  in  the  place  of  a  now-undesirable 
endless  life,  there  was  given  him — longevit}' ;  and  beyond 
it,  a  far  more  distinct  vision  of  the  future  life  than  mo- 
dern Sadducean  criticism  has  been  willing  to  allow. 
This  length  of  years — a  stipulated  reward  of  piety — 
and  this  more  than  a  glimmer  of  the  life  eternal,  im- 
parted a  dignity  to  the  modes  of  thinking,  and  to  the 
demeanour  and  carriage  of  those  "  Sons  of  God  "  who, 
each  in  his  place,  stood,  toward  all  around  him,  as 
Chief,  and  Prophet,  and  Priest.     Life  under  these  con- 


104  THE    SPIKIT    OF    THE 

ditions — beneath  the  heavens — a  life,  inartificial  and 
yet  regal — a  course  abhorrent  of  sordidness,  and  thrift, 
so  realized  itself  during  a  lapse  of  centuries,  as  to  have 
become  a  Pattern  Idea,  the  presence  and  influence  of 
which  are  conspicuous  in  the  cherished  sentiments  and 
in  the  literature  of  modern  and  western  nations. 

To  its  rise  in  the  Patriarchal  era  may  be  traced  that 
one  conception^  Avhich  might  be  called  the  Muling 
Thought^  as  well  of  Art,  as  of  Poetry — the  Idea  of 
Repose.  Order,  symmetry,  beauty,  security,  conscious 
right  and  power,  are  the  constituents  of  this  Idea. 
When  embodied,  or  symbolized  in  Art  or  in  Poetry,  it 
is  this  repose  which  is  the  silent  voucher  for  whatever 
shall  be  its  consummation  in  a  higher  sphere — even 
for  "  the  Rest  that  remaineth."  It  contradicts,  and 
refuses  to  be  consorted  with,  the  ambition,  the  discon- 
tent, the  adventure,  the  turmoil,  the  changeful  fortunes, 
tlie  pressure,  and  the  progress,  of  that  lower  life  which 
knows  nothing  of  the  past,  and  is  mindless  of  the  remote 
future. 

The  first  man  had  lived — for  whatever  term — in  the 
fruition  of  the  happiness  which  springs  from  the  sponta- 
neous development  of  every  faculty — bodily  and  mental. 
The  man — Avise  and  good  in  his  degree — under  the 
patriarchal  scheme,  enjoyed  as  much  of  the  things  of 
life  as  Avere  allowed  to  him — individually — under  the 
conditions  of  a  providential  scheme,  divinely  established 
and  administered,  in  a  manner  which  rendered  the  Pro- 
vidential Hand  and  Eye  all  but  visible :  the  Patriarch — 
religious  in  mood  and  habit,  and  thus  cared  for  by  Him 
whose  Name  was  a  promise — the  Patriarch  escliewed 
ambition,  he  dreaded  change  in  the  modes  of  life — he 
contented  himself  with  those  simple  conditions  of  com- 


HEBKEW    POETRY.  105 

mon  life  which,  in  a  warin  and  equable  climate,  are 
more  agreeable — more  suflicing,  than  are  the  fiir  more 
elaborate  provisions  of  a  higher  civilization  in  a  more 
austere  climate.  Especially  did  this  patriarchal  nomad 
life — this  following  of  pasturage  where  it  might  be 
found — greatly  favour  that  meditative  mood  in  which 
piety  delights  itself — entertaining  the  idea  of  terres- 
trial life  as  a  pilgrimage,  under  tents,  always  onward 
bound  toAvards  a  futui'e,  where  security  and  repose  shall 
be — not  precarious,  but  perj)etual. 

Toward  this  model  Idea,  embodied  as  it  has  been  in 
the  early  history  of  the  human  family,  and  authenticated 
as  good  for  Us  time^  by  the  apostolic  recognition  of  it, 
religious  feeling  in  all  times  has  constantly  shewn  itself 
to  be  tending.  At  times  and  in  places  when  and  where 
the  patriarchal  well-being  has  been  wholly  unattainable, 
there  came,  in  the  room  of  it,  or  as  its  best  substitute, 
the  earlier  and  the  less  fanatical  form  of  the  monastic 
life — the  anchoretlc — not  the  conventual — the  senti- 
mental and  mystical,  rather  than  the  ascetic ;  and  it  is 
observable  that  this  milder  style  of  the  wandering  pil- 
grimage life  over  the  ruggedness  of  earth  to  heaven 
drew  itself  as  near  as  it  could  to  the  scenes  of  its  patri- 
achal  archetype.  The  commendation  of  this  primieval 
piety  may  be  this: — that  it  was  in  place  as  a  prepara- 
tion for  a  more  advanced  stage  of  tlie  religious  training 
of  the  human  family; — but  the  condemnation  of  the 
later  mood — hi  itself  innocent,  was  this,  that  it  was  out 
of  place — out  of  date^  after  the  ultimate  Revelation  had 
been  promulgated.  The  ascetic  had  forgotten  evangelic 
principles  : — the  anchoret  had  retreated  from  evangelic 
obligations.  The  Patriarchal  life  was  the  foreshadowing 
of  a  future,  wlierein  communion  with  God  being  the 

5- 


106  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

high  end  or  intention  of  existence,  whatever  else  is  done 
will  be  regarded  only  as  a  means  conducive  to  that  end. 

In  accordance  with  its  intention  and  its  external  con- 
ditions, the  piety  of  the  Patriarchal  era  was  individual^ 
not  congregative  ; — it  was  domestic,  not  ecclesiastical ; 
— it  was  genuine  and  affectionate,  not  formal  or  choral, 
or  liturgical : — it  did  not  emulate,  or  even  desire,  the 
excitements  of  a  throng  of  worshippers,  assembling  to 
"  keep  holy  day,"  and  making  the  air  ring  with  their 
acclamations : — more  of  depth  was  there  in  this  ancient 
piety  ;  and  it  may  be  believed  that  the  worshipper  drew 
much  nearer  to  the  throne  of  the  Majesty  on  higli  than 
did  the  promiscuous  crowd  that,  in  after  times,  assem- 
bled to  celebrate  festivals  and  to  observe  national  ordi- 
nances. On  these  conditions,  namely — the  renouncing 
of  worldly  ambition,  and  the  restless  imagining  of  a 
something  better,  supposed  to  be  attainable  by  thought 
and  labour;  then  the  Patriarchal  repose  took  its  rest 
upon  the  hope  and  promise  of  a  land — unseen — the  land 
of  souls,  whereinto  the  servants  of  God  are  gathered, 
each  in  his  turn  as  he  fails  from  his  place  on  earth. 
How  desirable  a  lot  might  we  now  think  this,  if  only  its 
material  conditions  miglit  be  secured  ! — but  they  may 
not — this  is  not  possible  ;  for  man  is  summoned  to  work, 
and  to  suffer;  and  the  piety  of  meditative  repose,  and 
of  conscious  transit  to  the  paradise  of  sj^irits,  must  give 
way  to  a  piety  that  needs  to  be  strenuous,  self-denying, 
and  martyr-like ;  and  that  must  win  its  crown,  after  a 
conflict. 

Nevertheless,  this  enviable  lot  having  once  been  real- 
ized in  the  remoteness  of  ages,  it  still  lives  in  the  imagi- 
nations of  men,  and  toward  it,  not  poets  only,  but  the 
most  prosaic  of  the  order  of  thrift  are  seen  to  be  tend- 


HEBREW    POETRY.  107 

ing.     Toil  and  turmoil  through  sixty  years  are  endured, 
it'  only  these  may  purchase  a  closing  decade  of  rest — 
rural  occupation — security — or,  in   a   word,   a  sort   of 
suburban  resemblance  of  the  leisure   and   the   dignity 
that  was  long  ago  realized  in  the  desert,  by  them  of  old. 
The  Poetry  of  all  nations  has  conserved  more  or  less 
of  these  elements  of  the  primaeval  repose ;  and  in  fact 
we  find  them  conserved  also,  and  represented,  in  that 
modern  feeling — the  love  of,   and  the   taste   for — the 
Picturesque.     Modern,  undoubtedly,  is  this  taste,  which 
has  not  developed  itself  otherwise  than  in  connection 
with    pictorial   Art,  in    the    department    of  landscape. 
What  is  the  picturesque  ?     A  question  not   easily  an- 
swered ;  yet  this  is  certain,  that  any  attempt  that  may 
be  made  to  find  an  answer  to  it  must  bring  us  into  con- 
tact with  the  very  elements  which  already  have  been 
named ;  and  which  are  assembled  in  the  Ideal  of  the 
Patriarchal  Repose.     The  picturesque  could  not  belong 
to  Paradise  ;  for  it  finds  its  gratification  in  those  forms 
of  decay  and  disorder  which  bespeak  damage  and  inac- 
tion.    The  picturesque  is  not  simply — beauty  in  Nature; 
— it  is  not  luxuriance  ;  it  is  not  amplitude  or  vastness  ; 
it  is  not  copiousness  ;  it  is  not  the  fruit  of  man's  inter- 
ference :  but  rather  is  it  the  consequence  of  an  indolent 
acquiescence   on  his  part,  in  things — as  they  are,  or — 
as  they  have  become.     The  picturesque  belongs  to  the 
foreground  always ;  or  to  the  stage  next  beyond  the 
foreground; — never  does  it  take   its  range   upon  the 
horizon.      The  picturesque  claims  as  its  own  the  che- 
rished and  delicious  ideas  of  deep  seclusion,  of  length- 
ened^ undisturbed  continuance^  and  of  the  absence,  afiir- 
off,  of  those  industrial  energies  which  mark  their  pre- 
sence by  renovations,   by  removals,   and  by   a  better 


108  THE    SPIRl.T    OF    THE 


ordering  of  things,  and  by  signs  of  busy  industry,  and 
of  thriftiness  and  order. 

Within  tlie  sacred  precincts  of  the  picturesque,  the 
trees  must  be  such  as  have  outUved  the  winters  of  centu- 
ries, and  been  green  through  the  scorching  heats  of  un- 
recorded sultry  summers :  they  stoop,  and  yet  hold  up 
gnarled  giant  branches,  leafy  at  the  extreme  sprays  ; 
and  their  twistings  are  such  as  to  look  supernatural, 
seen  against  an  autumnal  evening  sky.  The  fences 
that  skirt  the  homestead  of  the  picturesque  must  have 
done  their  office  through  the  occupancy  of  three  or  four 
generations.  The  dwellings  of  man  must  declare  them- 
selves to  be  such  as  have  sheltered  the  hoary  quietude 
of  sires  long  ago  gone  to  their  graves.  Inasmuch  as 
the  picturesque  abjures  change,  it  rejects  improvement; 
it  abhors  the  square,  the  perpendicular,  the  horizontal ; 
and  it  likes  rather  all  forms  that  now  are  other  than  at 
first  they  were,  and  that  lean  this  way  and  that  way, 
and  that  threaten  to  fall ;  but  so  did  the  same  building 
threaten  a  fall  a  century  ago !  In  a  woi'd,  the  pictur- 
esque is  the  Conservatism  of  Landscape  Beauty.  It  is 
where  the  picturesque  holds  undisputed  sway  that  we 
shall  find — or  shall  expect  to  find — secure  and  placid 
longevity — domestic  sanctity  and  reverence  ;  together 
with  a  piety  that  holds  more  communion  with  the  past 
than  correspondence  with  the  busy  and  philanthropic 
present.  Give  me  only  the  picturesque,  and  I  shall  be 
well  content  never  to  gaze  upon  tropical  luxuriance,  or 
upon  Alpine  sublimities ;  nor  shall  ever  wish  to  tread 
the  broad  walks  that  surround  palaces  ;  shall  never  be 
taxed  for  my  admiration  of  those  things  which  wealth 
and  pride  have  superadded  to  Nature. 


CHAPTEU  VII. 

THE    ISRAELITE    OF    THE    EXODUS     AND    THE   THEOCRACY. 

It  was  upon  no  such  bright  themes  as  those  of  tlie 
Paradisaical  era — it  was  upon  no  subjects  so  well 
adapted  to  the  purposes  of  Poetry  as  those  of  the 
Patriarchal  era — that  the  Hebrew  Prophets  employed 
themselves.  It  was  flir  otlierwise :  leaving  subjects  of 
this  order  open  and  unoccupied  to  tlie  genius  of  distant 
ages,  these  witness-bearing  men,  in  long  succession,  ad- 
dressed the  men  of  their  times  upon  matters  of  more 
immediate  concernment,  and  in  a  mood  and  style 
adapted  to  the  people  with  whom  they  had  to  do.  If  it 
be  so — and  on  this  point  there  can  be  no  reasonable 
question — then  it  must  be  true  in  this  instance,  as  in 
every  similar  instance,  that  a  correct  notion  of  the  people 
who  were  so  addressed,  as  to  their  degree  of  culture,  as 
to  their  moral  condition,  and  their  social  advancement, 
and  as  to  their  comparative  intelligence,  may  with  cer- 
tainty be  gathered  from  these  remains  of  their  litera- 
ture : — the  literature  being  regarded  as  the  mirror  of 
the  national  mind.  Yet  if  we  so  regard  it,  and  so  use 
it,  this  safe  metliod  of  induction  may  perhaps  lead  the 
way  to  conclusions  that  materially  ditfer  from  those, 
which,  on  the  one  side,  as  well  as  on  the  other  side,  of 
a  controversy  concerning  the  Old  Testament  History, 
have  been  advanced,  and  have  been  tacitly  assented  to. 

To  defame,  by  all  means,   the  ancient  Israelitish  peo- 


110  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


pie,  as  a  "horde  of  barbarians,"  has  been  the  purpose 
of  a  certam  class  of  writers ;  and  on  the  other  side  a 
mistaken  timidity  has  beguiled  Avriters  into  the  error  of 
supposing  that,  in  admitting  this  imputed  barbarism,  an 
extenuation,  or  a  palliation  might  be  found  for  those 
events  and  those  courses  of  action  in  the  history  of  the 
people  which  most  oifend  our  modern  tastes,  or  which 
stand  condemned'  by  Christian  principles.  What  has 
been  wanting,  and  the  want  of  which  has  shed  confu- 
sion upon  the  subject,  has  been — we  need  not  say — can- 
dour and  truthfulness  on  the  one  side  ;  but  more  of  intel- 
lectual and  moral  courage  on  the  other  side  of  this 
modern  argument. 

The  ancient  Israelite  had  no  peer  among  his  contem- 
poraries ;  nor  do  we  find  analogous  instances  on  any 
side  that  might  render  aid  in  solving  the  problem  of 
this  race,  either  in  its  earher  or  its  later  history.  In 
truth,  there  is  as  much  need  of  an  admission  of  the  super- 
natural element  for  understanding  the  national  character^ 
as  there  is  for  understanding  the  narrative  of  its  fortunes 
and  its  misfortunes — the  catastrophes  that  liave  over- 
whelmed it,  and  the  fact  of  its  survivance  of  each  of 
them  in  turn.  The  Jew — such  as  we  now  meet  him  in 
the  crowded  ways  of  European  cities — is  indeed  a  mys- 
tery insoluble,  unless  we  are  willing  to  accept  the  Bibli- 
cal ex])lication  of  the  problem.  So  understood,  we  do 
indeed  yield  credence  to  the  supernatural  ;  but  then,  in 
not  yielding  it,  the  alternative  is  a  congeries  of  perplex- 
ities that  are  utterly  offensive  to  reason. 

Taken  on  the  ground  of  ordinary  historical  reasoning, 
the  earliest  literary  remains  of  the  Israelitish  people  give 
evidence  of  a  f;ir  higher  range  of  the  moral  and  religious 
consciousness  than   is   anywhere  else  presented  in  the 


HEBREW    POETRY.  Ill 

circle  of  ancient  literature.  The  inference  lience  deriva- 
ble is  not  abated  in  its  meaning  by  the  anomalous  and 
remarkable  fact — a  fact  whicli  has  no  parallel — that  these 
writings,  through  a  great  extent  of  them,  take  a  form 
of  remonstrant  antagonism  toward  tlie  peojile — toward 
the  masses,  and  toward  their  princes  and  rulers.  Those 
who  take  upon  themselves  the  unwelcome  and  danger- 
ous office  of  administering  national  rebuke,  and  of  utter- 
ing denunciations,  are  not  wont  to  attribute  to  their 
hearers  more  of  intelligence  and  of  right  feeling  than 
they  find  among  them.  We  may  believe,  then,  that 
there  was,  in  fact,  with  these  hearers  that  measure  of 
mind  and  of  virtue,  the  existence  of  which  is  fairly  to 
be  inferred  fi'om  the  language  of  these  public  censors, 
whose  often-recurring  phrases  are  of  this  order — "  Ye 
are  a  stiff-necked  people — a  foolish  nation  : — as  were 
your  fathers,  so  are  ye." 

As  Avas  the  country,  so  the  people  : — the  country, 
geographically,  was  embraced  within  the  circuit  of  the 
East ;  nevertheless,  in  climate  and  productions  it  was 
European  more  than  it  was  Asiatic.  And  so  the  people 
— Orientals  by  origin,  by  physiognomy,  by  usages,  and 
yet  in  many  points  of  mental  constitution,  and  by  its 
restless  energy,  it  was  more  European  than  Oriental. 
Toward  the  trans-Eujjhratean  races — the  ultra-Orientals 
— the  Israelite  showed  a  decisive  contrariety  or  aliena- 
tion :  he  refused  his  sympathies  toward  the  sun-rising  ; 
or,  if  in  some  instances  amalgamation  in  that  direction 
took  place,  the  sure  and  speedy  consequence  was  loss  of 
nationality  in  every  sense — physical,  ritual,  social.  The 
captive  tribes,  when  carried  eastward,  forgot  their  insti- 
tutions— forgot  their  very  name. 

l>ut  toward  the  people  of  the  "Islands  of  the  sea" — 


112  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

the  European  races — the  Jew,  while  maintaining  a  sul- 
len antagonism,  and  continuing  to  rebut  scorn  with 
scorn,  has  done  so  in  a  manner  that  gave  proof  of  his 
consciousness  of  what  might  be  called — intellectual  and 
moral  consanguinity.  By  his  sympathies,  by  his  intel- 
lectual range,  by  his  moral  intensity,,  by  his  religious 
depth,  and  even  by  his  tastes,  the  Jew  has  made  good 
his  claim  to  be  numbered  with  those  that  constitute  the 
commonwealth  of  western  civilization.  Intimately  con- 
sorted with  European  nations,  this  integrate  people  has 
repelled  conmiixture,  as  if  it  might  serve  as  an  alloy  ; 
but  it  has  shown  its  quality,  in  this  way,  that  if  the 
Western  nations,  like  the  perfect  metals,  are  fusible,  and 
malleable,  and  ductile,  and  apt  for  all  purposes  of  art, 
this  race  also — unlike  the  Oriental  races — fully  partakes 
of  the  same  original  qualities,  and  is  apt  also  toward  the 
highest  civilization.  Not  so  those  races  that  are  pro- 
perly Oriental,  and  which,  like  the  imperfect  metals, 
show  a  sparkling  surface,  but  are  stercote  in  thought,  in 
usages,  in  political  structure — the  same  from  the  begin- 
ning to  the  end  of  millenniums.  As  the  Jew  of  modern 
times  is  our  equal,  intellectually  and  morally,  so  has  he 
been  from  the  first ; — such  was  the  Israelite  of  the  Exo- 
dus, and  of  the  next  following  centuries. 

Orientals — those  who  are  such  by  destiny — h:\\e 
always,  as  now  they  do,  surrendered  themselves  inertly 
to  despotisms  of  vast  geographical  extent.  Not  so  the 
Israelite,  either  of  the  remotest  times,  or  of  later  ages. 
Often  trampled  upon  and  loaded  with  chains,  he  has 
never  ceased  to  resent  his  bonds,  or  to  vex  and  trouble 
his  oppressor.  Always,  and  notoriously,  has  he  been  a 
dangerous  and  turbulent  subject.  The  Romans,  great 
masters  of  the  art  of  governing  dependencies,  learned 


HEBREW    POETRY  113 

at  length  tliis  lesson — that  the  Jew  must  be  indulged  ; 
— or,  if  not  indulged,  tben  exterminated.  It  is  true 
that  the  kinsman  of  tlie  Israelite — the  Arab,  has  defied 
subjugation; — but  he  has  done  so  as  the  roaming  man 
of  a  trackless  desert,  whereupon  he  may  fiit  until 
his  pursuers  are  weary  of  the  chase.  The  resistance 
and  persistence  of  tlie  Israelite,  and  of  the  Jew,  has 
implied  loftier  qualities,  and  deeper  sentiments ;  for  it 
has  been  maintained  under  the  flir  more  trying  condi- 
tions of  city  life.  It  is  one  thing  to  scoif  the  tyrant 
from  afar  upon  scorched  illimitable  sands  :  it  is  another, 
to  maintain  moral  courage,  and  to  transmit  the  same 
spirit  of  heroism  to  sons  and  daughters,  Avhile  buffeted 
and  mocked  in  every  villanous  crowd  of  a  city !  So 
has  the  Jew  held  his  own,  and  he  has  done  this  as  the 
true  descendant  of  the  men  with  whom  Jephtha,  and 
Deborah,  and  Samuel,  and  David,  had  to  do.  The 
same  man — man  indeed  we  find  him,  in  conflict  with 
Antiochus,  and  when  led  and  ruled  by  the  Asmonean 
princes.  Such  did  he  show  himself  to  the  Roman  pro- 
consuls;— such  was  he  as  the  problem  of  the  imperial 
rule ; — such  toward  the  barbarian  barons  of  medisGval 
Europe — such,  from  first  to  last  (last  we  must  not  say 
of  the  Jewish  people)  the  man — firmer  always  in  princi- 
ple and  in  passive  courage  than  that  the  iron  and  the 
fire  should  break  liis  resolution. 

The  Israelite  of  the  earliest  period — the  ages  elapsing 
from  the  settlement  in  Palestine  to  the  establishment  of 
the  monarchy,  and  onward — may  be  regarded  as  tlie 
genuine  representative  of  constitutional  social  order ; 
for  his  rule  is — submission  up  to  a  limit,  and  resistance 
at  all  risks  beyond  that  limit.  He  had  no  taste  for 
anarchy ;  his  inmost  feeling  was  quiescent,  for  it  arose 


114  THE    SPIKIT    OF    THE 

from  his  vividly  (lomestic,  and  liis  praidial  habits  and 
sentiments.  The  patiiarelial  ancestry  of  the  nation  had 
given  him  a  tradition  of  quietude  and  enjoyment — under 
tlie  vine  and  fig  tree — liis  wife  as  a  fruitful  vine  and  his 
children  as  olive  plants  round  about  his  table ;  and  thus 
he  was  not  the  turbulent  brawling  citizen,  machinating 
revolution  : — he  was  the  sturdy  yeoman,  and  the  true 
conservative.  A  soklier,  and  always  brave  if  there  be 
need  to  fight — if  there  be  an  enemy  on  the  border;  but 
he  was  never  ambitious  or  aggressive. 

Enough  has  become  known  concerning  the  common 
arts  of  life,  as  practised  among  the  Egyptians  in  the 
times  of  the  Pharaohs,  to  secure  for  them  an  advanced 
position  on  the  scale  of  material  civilization :  they  un- 
derstood, and  successfully  practised,  as  well  the  second- 
ary as  the  primary  arts  which  minister  to  the  subsidiary, 
as  well  as  to  the  more  imperative  requirements  of  the 
social  economy.  During  their  long  sojourn  in  the 
near  neighbourhood  of  the  Egyptian  civilization,  the 
Hebrew  people — slaves  during  the  latter  portion  only 
of  this  period — had  largely  partaken  of  tliis  advance- 
ment. The  evidences  of  this  culture  are  incidental  and 
conclusive,  as  we  gather  them  from  the  narrative  of 
the  forty  years'  wandering  in  the  Sinaitic  peninsula. 
The  mechanic  and  the  decorative  arts  were  at  the  com- 
mand of  the  people  :  there  were  among  them  skilled 
artificers  in  all  lines  :  they  possessed  also  a  formed  lan- 
guage,— and  they  had  the  free  use  and  habit  of  a  written 
language. 

If,  then,  we  go  on  to  inquire  concerning  the  intellec- 
tual and  moral  and  social  condition  of  the  thousands  of 
the  people,  the  warrantable  method,  available  for  the  pur- 
poses of  such   an  inquiry,  is  that  of  seeking  the  indica- 


HEBREW    POETRY.  115 

tion!=  of  this  condition,  inferentially,  in  the  remains  of 
the  literature  of  the  people ; — not,  it  may  be,  in  trea- 
tises on  abstruse  subjects,  composed  by  the  learned  for 
the  learned :  but  in  writings  of  whatever  sort  which 
were  adapted  to  popular  use,  and  in  which — for  tliis  is 
their  mark^  as  so  intended — the  mass  of  the  people  is 
challenged  to  listen  and  to  respond,  and  is  invited  and 
provoked  to  contradict — if  in  any  instance  there  be  room 
for  a  contrary  averment.  Such  was  the  Israelitish  peo- 
ple at  the  moment  which  ended  their  tent-life  in  the  wil- 
derness, and  which  immediately  preceded  their  entrance 
upon  the  land  assigned  them,  as  that  they,  in  full  Eccle- 
sia,  might  properly  be  taught,  advised,  upbraided,  pro- 
mised, threatened,  in  the  manner  of  which  the  closing 
book  of  the  Pentateuch  is  the  record  and  summary. 

The  Israelite  of  that  time  was  such  that  to  him  might 
be  propounded,  intelligently,  the  sublime  theology  and 
the  rightful  and  truthful  ethics  of  the  book  of  Deute- 
ronomy ;  which  have  held  their  place,  unrivalled,  as  In- 
stitutes of  Religion  from  that  age  to  this.  What  is  our 
alternative  on  this  ground  ?  This  book  is  either  "  from 
Heaven,"  in  its  own  sense ;  or  it  is  from  man.  If  from 
Heaven,  then  a  great  controversy  reaches  its  conclusion, 
by  admission  of  the  opponent; — but  if  from  men,  then 
the  people  among  whom  this  theology,  and  these  ethical 
principles,  and  these  institutions  spontaneously  arose,  and 
to  whose  actual  condition  they  were  adapted,  were  a  peo- 
ple for  advanced  beyond  any  other,  even  of  later  times, 
in  their  religious  conceptions,  in  their  moral  conscious- 
ness, in  their  openness  to  remonstrance,  and  their  sensi- 
1)ility  toward  some  of  the  most  refined  emotions  of  do- 
mestic and  social  life.  It  is  a  canon,  open  to  no  valid 
exceptive  instance,  that  the  spoken-to  are  as  the  speaker 


116  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


and  his  speech.  There  is  an  easy  and  warrantable 
means  of  bringing  this  historic  canon  to  a  test,  as  avail- 
able in  the  instance  before  ns.  Our  question  is — Wliat 
Avere  these  people,  or — icJiat  had  they  become^  in  con- 
sequence of  their  Egyptian  sojourn — what  in  conse- 
quence of  the  discipline  of  the  desert  : — what,  upon  a 
new  generation,  had  been  the  influence  of  the  Sinaitic 
Law,  and  of  the  Tabernacle  worship,  and  of  the  tribune 
administration  of  social  order?  Prospective  as  were 
many  of  the  Mosaic  injunctions— social  and  ecclesiasti- 
cal— the  theology  was  ripe  and  entire,  from  the  first ; 
— so  were  the  ethical  principles,  and  so  was  the  wor- 
ship. The  generation  which  then  had  reached  maturity 
along  with  all  of  younger  age,  from  infancy  uj^ward, 
were — the  product  of  this  religious  and  social  training  ! 
There  is  much  more  in  the  last  book  of  the  Penta- 
teuch than  in  the  preceding  four — regarded  as  a  ground 
or  source  of  inferences — concerning  the  intellectual 
and  moral  condition  of  the  Hebrew  people  of  that  time; 
for  it  consists  of  a  series  of  popular  addresses,  orally  de- 
livered ;  and  these,  by  the  calm  majesty  of  the  style 
throughout,  by  the  remonstrant  tone,  by  innumerable 
allusions  to  events  and  usages,  carry  with  them  a  demon- 
stration of  historic  verity  which  no  ingenuous  and  cul- 
tured mind  will  fail  to  admit.  And  withal,  toward  the 
close  of  these  upbraiding  admonitions  the  Ileaven-in- 
structed  Lawgiver  and  Prophet  utters,  with  all  the  am- 
plitude and  speciality  of  actual  vision,  a  prediction  of 
national  woe  to  arrive  in  the  remotest  distance  of  ages 
— a  prediction  so  irrefragably  prescient  as  to  have  wrung 
-_ — to  have  iKvenched — a  reluctant  admission  of  its  Divine 
origin  from  those  who  have  schooled  themselves  in 
rebuttinc:  sufficient  and  reasonable  evidence. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  117 

The  utterance  of  a  series  of  oral  instructions  and 
remonstrances,  in  full  assembly,  differs,  as  we  say,  much, 
as  to  its  historical  value,  from  the  promulgation  of  a 
tcrlUen  code^  or  of  Institutes  of  Morals;  for  these  may 
have  been  the  woi'k  of  a  sage — theorising  and  devising 
for  the  benefit  of  his  contemporaries  more  and  better 
tilings  than  in  fact  they  were  prepared  to  receive.  Ora- 
tions, if  authentic,  imply  more  than  is  implied  in  treat- 
ises or  in  systems  of  philosophy. 

An  intelligent  and  unsophisticateil  reader  of  the  ma- 
jestic speeches  which  constitute  the  book  of  Deuterono- 
my— resplendent  as  they  are  with  a  bright  and  benign 
theistic  doctrine — translucent  expressions  as  they  arc 
of  earnest  paternal  affection — deep  as  they  are  in  the 
knowledge  of  human  nature — humane  as  they  are,  will 
never  believe — would  never  imagine,  that  the  sjieaker's 
audience  were  the  chiefs  and  the  followers,  of  a  stupid, 
sensual,  truculent,  remorseless  mob.  Here,  indeed,  the 
ingenuous  reader  feels  that — as  is  the  speaker,  such  are 
the  spoken-to.  Greatly  may  we  err,  as  we  have  al- 
ready said,  in  parting  off  the  credible  from  the  incredi- 
ble among  the  records  of  past  ages.  When  the  Hebrew 
Poet  challenges  an  imagined  respondent,  and  asks,  in 
the  confidence  of  truth — "  What  was  it,  O  Sea,  that 
thou  fleddest,  and  thou  Jordan,  that  thou  didst  turn 
back?" — we  grant  him  readily  his  own  expected  an- 
swer : — it  was  at  the  presence  of  the  Almighty  that  the 
earth  then  trembled,  and  that  the  sea  was  then  moved 
out  of  its  place.  This  is  not  incredible,  nay,  it  is  easy 
of  belief,  that  He  which  formed  the  deep,  and  founded 
the  hills,  should  hold  them  in  His  hand,  and  do  with 
them  what  He  wills.  But  now  let  it  be  considered  whe- 
ther, with  the  books  of  Moses  before  us,  and  the  aged 


118  THE    SPIEIT    OF    THE 

Lawgiver  in  view,  and  witli  liis  people  listening,  as  his 
sons  aronnd  him,  we  can  imagine  them  to  be  the  savages 
which  a  malignant  and  perverse  criticism  has  laboured 
to  paint  them.  We  may  be  sure  it  was  not  so : — let  any 
instances  be  adduced  which  might  give  support  to  a  sup- 
position of  that  kind. 

Was  the  Hebrew  people  a  barbarous  and  sanguinary 
horde  ?  The  modern  archetype  of  the  ancient  Israel- 
ite, if  we  are  to  take  our  notion  of  him  from  writers  of 
a  certain  class,  is  to  be  found  among  the  (unchristian- 
ized)  tribes  of  Kafir-land,  or  among  those — such  as 
once  they  were,  of  New  Zealand;  or  among  the  Red 
Men  of  the  American  wilderness ;  or  we  might  find 
him  among  those  that  now  roam  the  Arabian  deserts ; 
or  we  might  find  him  among  the  degraded  and  ferocious 
occupants  of  the  dens  and  cellars  of  great  cities.  But 
assemble  now  a  ten  thousand  of  such  men — the  nearest 
resemblances  you  can  find  of  the  "  barbarians  "  of  the 
Exodus  and  of  the  Conquest  under  Joshua ;  endeavour 
to  gain  the  hearing  of  the  savage  crowd — with  the 
painted  face,  and  the  horrid  knife  in  the  girdle,  and  the 
skull  of  an  enemy  dangling  from  his  belt ;  take  with 
you,  for  an  experiment,  the  twenty-sixth  chapter  of  the 
book  of  Deuteronomy,  and  with  it  make  proof  of  the 
endeavour  to  find  your  way  to  the  mind  and  heart  of 
untutored  and  of  unculturable  and  sanguinary  savages. 
In  fact,  no  such  experiment  could  be  attempted.  Try 
it,  then,  under  any  other  imaginable  conditions.  The 
Christian  Missionary  must  have  laboured  for  many 
years  among  any  of  the  people  of  Asia — in  China,  in 
Thibet,  in  India,  and  he  must  have  schooled  the  child- 
ren of  those  nations  from  infancy  to  adult  years,  before 
he  could  hope  to  surround  himself  with  an  audience  that 


HEBREW    POETRY.  119 

iniL!:]it  be  expected  to  listen  with  intelligence  to  instruc- 
tions and  admonitions  of  this  order.  The  Mosaic  homi- 
lies are  available  as  indirect,  yet  conclusive  evidence  of 
the  existence  of  a  true  theistic  habitude  of  mind  among 
the  people  of  the  Exodus  : — these  exhortations  are  dis- 
tinguished by  a  majestic  simplicity,  and  a  fervour,  and 
a  paternal  warmth,  which  reflect,  as  in  a  mirror,  the 
popular  mind  so  far  as  is  needed  for  completing  our  his- 
toric conception  of  the  scene  and  its  transactions : — the 
speaker,  the  listeners,  and  the  addresses.  The  Avell- 
schooled  and  Christianized  people  of  Protestant  Europe 
excepted,  there  is  not  now  a  people  on  earth — Eastern 
or  ^Yestern — among  whom  a  hearing  could  be  had  for 
recitations,  and  advices,  such  as  these  are.  If  this  ex- 
ception be  allowed  for,  then  the  popular  mind  anywhere 
among  the  nations  of  Europe  must  have  been  fused  and 
cast  in  a  new  mould  before  language  like  that  which 
was  addressed  by  their  Lawgiver  to  the  Hebrew  peoi)le 
could  meet  a  response  in  the  mind  and  heart  of  the 
multitude.  The  true  and  the  safe  inference  is  this — 
That  the  thousands  of  Israel,  such  as  they  were  at  the 
close  of  their  forty  years'  life  in  the  wilderness,  could 
not  be,  as  it  is  affirmed,  a  gross,  stupid,  and  ferocious 
horde  ; — but  on  the  contrary,  a  people — young  in  age, 
and  quick  in  mind  and  feeling ; — a  people  in  seeking 
for  analogues  to  whom  we  must  look  among  the  best 
trained  of  our  modern  Christianized — Bible-taught  popu- 
lations : — they  must  have  been  a  people  with  whom 
there  had  been  matured,  a  settled  usage  of  theistic 
terms,  a  spontaneous  intelligence  of  these  terms,  devout 
habitudes,  and  withal  a  dift'used  warmth  of  those  social 
sentiments  which  are  consequent  upon,  and  which  are  the 
proper  results  of  an  expansion  of  the  domestic  aftections. 


120  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

It  is  either  from  the  want  of  pliilosophic  breadth  in 
the  mental  habits  of  those  who  make  great  pretensions 
to  this  quality  ;  or  it  is,  on  the  other  hand,  from  a  sick- 
ly religiousness,  that  the  terrible  events  and  doings  of 
the  conquest,  and  the  extermination  of  the  Canaanitish 
tribes,  are  asserted  to  be  at  variance  with  the  inferences 
Avhich  we  thus  derive  from  the  later  portions  of  the 
Pentateuch. 

These  inferences  *are  sure  and  conclusive ;  and  they 
are  the  more  so  because  mainly  they  are  indirect  and 
circumstantial.  Those  events  and  transactions — as 
they  stand  recorded  in  the  Books  of  Joshua  and  the 
Judges — are  indeed  appalling,  and  the  perusal  of  them 
miist  be  painful.  It  ought  to  be  so : — it  should  not  be 
otherwise  than  that  from  a  stern  necessity  only  we  rest 
in  imagination  upon  recitals  of  this  order,  let  them  be 
found  where  they  may,  whether  in  our  Bibles,  or  out  of 
them.  When  similar  narratives  are  found  out  of  our 
Bibles,  our  philosophic  habits  of  thought  easily  help  us 
to  get  rid  of  the  difficulty ;  and  we  abstain  from  j^etu- 
lantly  drawing  conclusions,  as  to  the  manners  or  tem- 
perament of  nations,  which  would  be  precipitate  and 
unwarrantable.  When  found  within  our  Bibles,  it  is 
only  a  gratuitous  hypothesis,  as  to  the  methods  of  the 
Divine  government  in  human  affiiirs  that  generates,  or 
that  aggravates,  the  difficulty,  in  view  of  which  our 
religious  faith,  or  our  Christianized  sentiments,  are  stag- 
gered or  offended.  The  remedy  is  to  be  sought — 
first,  in  a  dispassionate  attention  to  the  facts ;  and  then 
in  a  comparison  of  these  jfacts  with  others  of  a  like 
order,  occurring  on  the  common  field  of  history. 

Take  in  hand  the  Books  of  Joshua,  Judges,  Ruth, 
and  Samuel.      Rising  to  view  at  frequent  intervals  in 


HEBREW    POETRY.  121 

these  records,  and  always  in  a  manner  that  is  incidental 
and  iiiarlilicial,  there  are  evidences  irresistible  of  the 
existence,  diffused  among  the  Hebrew  people,  of  deep 
and  vivid  domestic  affections — of  individual  and  fam- 
ily piety — of  humane  sentiments  and  usages — of  a 
high  and  chivalrous  sense  of  honour  and  patriotism,  and 
of  a  stern  sense  of  justice,  and  of  the  rights  and  claims 
of  the  destitute  and  defenceless.  These  facts  transpire 
in  the  course  of  these  narratives  ;  and  the  style  of  the 
prophets — even  when  administering  their  most  severe 
rebukes — supposes  the  same  fiicts.  No  such  denun- 
ciations of  the  Divine  displeasure  toward  cruelty,  vio- 
lence, oppression,  rapacity,  could  have  had  any  mean- 
ing unless  there  had  been,  on  the  side  of  the  people,  a 
consciousness  of  truth,  justice,  mercy,  humanity,  purity, 
and  piety,  of  which  consciousness  the  indications  are 
frequent  in  the  history  of  the  people ; — a  history  ex- 
tending a  four  hundred  years  onward  from  the  time  of 
the  passage  of  the  Jordan.  The  acts  of  the  Conquest 
had  wot  found  the  Hebrew  people  a  sanguinary  horde; 
— nor  had  these  acts  rendered  them  such  :  to  suppose 
otherwise  would  be  to  reject  conclusive  evidence  bear- 
ing upon  this  instance,  and  to  forget  parallel  instances 
elsewhere  occurring. 

War  will  be  war,  everywhere  and  always,  until  it  shall 
have  been  "  made  to  cease  unto  the  ends  of  the  earth." 
Horrible  always,  at  tlie  best,  will  be — slaughter — 
wholesale ;  and  it  ought  to  be  revolting  in  the  recital, 
let  the  provocations,  or  the  reasons  of  necessity,  be  what 
they  may :  and  especially  is  it  so  when,  to  circumstances 
of  urgent  national  peril  are  added  inveterate  and  ag- 
gravated antipathies  of  race.  The  future  readers  of  the 
history  of  the  British  rule  in  India — such  readers,  more 

6 


122  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

thoroughly  Christianized  than  we  of  this  time  are — 
"vvill  be  fain  to  put  from  them  the  page  which  tells  of 
what  was  enacted  by  humane  and  Christian-hearted 
British  chiefs  in  regaining  the  lost  supremacy  of  a  for- 
eiu:n  over  the  native  races  of  Hindoostan.  Slaughter — 
not  effected  by  the  predetermined  stroke  of  the  magis- 
terial sword — is,  and  ought  always  to  be,  beyond,  and 
contrary  to,  rule  and  order.  A  people  is  indeed  savage 
among  whom  slaughter  could  be  a  recognized  practice  : 
never  can  it  come  under  the  restraints  of  any  sort  of 
political  or  moral  generalization  :  never  can  it  be  rea- 
soned upon,  or  instituted,  unless  among  a  nation  of 
fiends.  Nevertheless,  it  is  certain  that  a  people  whose 
history  is  marked  by  no  blood-stains — deep  and  broad 
— has  never  yet  held  a  place  for  itself  upon  the  map  of 
continents.  The  world  being  such  as  it  has  ever  been, 
and  is — even  now  in  this  late  age — no  place,  unless  it 
be  that  of  abject  servitude,  is  left  for  any  race  which  is 
so  inerme  as  that  it  could  neither  provoke  nor  inflict 
sanguinary  revenges.  If  we  resent  any  such  allegation 
as  this,  we  ought,  in  proof  of  our  consistency,  not  only 
to  snatch  the  musket  from  the  soldier,  but  the  bludgeon 
from  the  girdle  of  the  policeman.  This  may  not  be 
questioned,  that,  unless  the  ancient  Israelitish  people 
had  possessed  as  much  of  stern  truculent  energy  as  this, 
they  could  not  have  maintained  themselves  a  ten  years 
upon  their  soil — wedged  in,  as  they  were,  among  the 
iron-charioted  millions  of  Amalek,  and  Midian,  and 
Philistia,  and  of  Assyria,  and  of  Egypt.  If  not  so, 
then  must  there,  from  century  to  century,  have  been 
pointed,  eastward,  northward,  southward,  the  always 
visible  and  blazing  swords  of  seraphim. 

Already  we  have  said  that  we  need  the  hypothesis  of 


HEBREW    POETRY.  123 


the  supernatural  for  solving  the  problem  of  the  national 
character^  as  well  as  for  understanding  the  history  of  tliis 
people.  And  so  now,  again,  in  this  critical  instance,  it 
is  nothing  less  than  an  assumption  of  the  supernatural 
in  the  history  of  the  Exodus,  and  of  the  conquest  of 
Canaan,  that  can  make  intelligible  the  facts  with  which 
we  have  to  do — and  which  are  these — first.  That  the 
Hebrew  tribes  did  indeed  enact  the  extermination  of  the 
Canaanitish  races  (so  far  as  this  was  done),  but  that  the 
work  of  slaughter,  dire  as  it  was,  did  not  settle  itself 
down  upon  the  national  temper  or  habits,  so  as  to  show 
itself  upon  the  people  as  a  permanent  disposition.  No 
such  effects  followed  from  the  tragedy-period  of  their 
history  : — it  would  not  necessarily  do  so  in  any  case ; 
— it  did  not  in  this  instance,  because  the  people,  and 
their  chiefs,  acted  at  the  prompting  of  a  command  which, 
in  tlieir  view,  had  received  unquestionable  authentica- 
tion from  Heaven.  Thus  warranted,  the  act  of  slaugh- 
ter was,  as  we  might  say,  screened  from  its  impact  upon 
the  moral  sentiments  of  the  people.  It  was  as  when, 
shielded  by  a  charm  from  the  violence  of  fire,  a 
man  passes  unharmed  through  a  furnace  seven  times 
heated. 

Besides  this  hypothesis  of  the  supernatural,  which  we 
need  in  understanding  the  facts  in  vicAv,  there  is  to  be 
remembered  also  the  often-mentioned  ficts  of  the  con- 
summate abominations  that  had  become  inveterate 
among  the  Canaanitish  races.  This  state  of  social 
putrescence — these  destructive  impurities,  and  these 
Moloch  cruelties,  were  known  to  the  invading  people, 
and  were  understood  by  them  as  tJie  reason  of  their 
destruction.  Thus  commissioned  to  exterminate  those 
who  could  not  be  reformed,  the  work  of  slauj^hter  did 


124  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

not  mihiimanize  those  who  eifccted  it : — that  it  did  not 
the  evidence  is  various  and  valid. 

Distinctly  looked  at,  under  its  actual  conditions,  the 
problem,  so  far  as  it  affects  the  Israelitish  people  of  the 
Exodus  and  the  Conquest,  stands  clear — if  not  of  per- 
plexity, yet  of  any  greater  perplexity  than  such  as  hovers 
over  every  other  national  history,  in  this  world  of  evil. 

What,  then,  are  the  conditions  of  this  same  problem, 
considered  in  its  upward-looking  aspect,  or  as  it  is 
related  to  the  I'ules  and  methods  of  the  Divine  govern- 
ment ? 

Our  first  step  on  this  ground  is — to  reduce  the 
problem,  in  this  aspect  of  it,  within  the  limits  due  to  it. 
What  we  are  concerned  with  is — a  limited,  that  is  to 
say,  a  Bible  problem : — with  the  world-wide  problem, 
affecting  philosophic  Theism,  we  are  not  here  impli- 
cated. In  this  latter  and  more  extensive  sense  the 
existence  at  all,  and  the  long-continued  existence,  of 
nations  so  utterly  degraded — so  impure  and  cruel  in 
their  manners  and  in  their  institutions — is  a  far  deeper 
mystery — it  is  a  much  more  perplexing  problem,  than 
is  their  quick  extermination,  whether  effected  by 
pla2:ue,  or  deluge,  or  the  sword.  But  then  these  dark 
depths  in  the  human  system,  as  they  stand  related  to 
the  Divine  wisdom  and  beneficence,  are  not  J^ihle 
troubles : — they  are  not  abysses  which  might  be  filled 
in  by  throwing  into  them  our  Bibles — even  millions 
of  copies  of  Bibles  : — after  this  were  done  they  would 
still  yawn  upon  us,  as  before.  It  is  the  disingenuous 
practice — or  call  it  artifice — of  a  certain  class  of  writers 
to  throw  the  burden  of  world-wide  mysteries  upon  the 
Bible,  upon  Avhich,  in  truth,  they  take  no  bearing. 

The  dark  colour  of  the  problem — whether  considered 


HEBREW    POETRY.  125 

in  its  widest  import,  or  in  its  speciality,  as  related  to  the 
Biblical  question  now  in  view — has  been  derived  from 
modern  modes  of  feeling ;  and  these  are  the  fiiiit  of 
Christianity  itself.  No  such  mystery  troubled  the  medi- 
tations of  philosophers  who  looked  complacently  upon 
the  trains  of  wretches  that  graced  the  triumphs  of 
Roman  generals;  and  who  relished  the  gladiatorial  mas- 
sacres of  the  amphitheatre.  It  is  neither  the  philosophy 
nor  the  poetry  of  classic  civilization  that  has  schooled 
the  modern  mind  in  its  mood  of  humanity.  It  is  Bible 
reading  that  has  done  this :  it  is  our  Christian  sensi- 
tiveness— out  of  which  Infidelity  has  stolen  an  advan- 
tage— that  converts  a  misunderstanding  of  those  remote 
transactions  into  a  sore  trial  of  our  faith  in  Sci'ipture. 
Christian  sensitiveness,  which  we  should  not  wish  to  see 
blunted,  together  with  a  misapprehension  of  the  facts, 
has  conjoined  itself  with  the  besetting  error  of  all  reli- 
gious speculation — namely,  tlie  framing  of  some  hypo- 
thesis concerning  the  Divine  motives  which  is  loholly 
gratuitous  and  Knicarrantahle. 

It  has  been  on  tlie  ground  of  some  hypothesis  of  this 
order — gratuitous  and  unwarrantable,  that  the  thought- 
ful of  every  age  have  made  for  themselves  infinite 
trouble,  and  great  sorrow  of  heart.  It  has  been  thus 
that  the  large  economy  of  the  animal  creation,  and  its 
stern  realities,  have  driven  many  on  toward  the  belief 
of  an  Evil  Principle— the  creator  of  the  carnivora! 
And  thus  that  we  gloomily  muse  upon  the  course  of 
events  when  these  are  signally  disastrous;  and  thus 
that  we  find  occasions  of  offence  in  Biblical  history. 
To  a  great  extent  also  we  are  governed,  or  rather  we 
are  tyrannized  over,  by  the  variable  intensity  of  feel- 
ings which  so  often  go  beyond  all  reason  in  relation  to 


126  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

the  events  of  every  clay ;  as,  for  instance — It  is  with 
ungovernable  anguish  that  we  stand  spectators  of  the 
foundering  of  an  emigrant  ship  : — five  hundred  souls  on 
hoard — men,  women,  children, — lost  within  a  cable's 
length  of  the  sliore  ! — a  shifting  of  the  gale — one  point 
— would  have  sufficed  for  bringing  all  safe  into  port ! 
It  is  on  an  occasion  of  this  sort  that  our  religious 
impulses  are  liable  to  a  dangerous  strain,  and  we  pas- 
sionately ask — Why  was  this  calamity  permitted  ?  Our 
only  conclusion — wliich  indeed  brings  with  it  very  little 
abatement  of  our  distress — is  the  theologic  apophthegm 
— The  ways  of  God  are  inscrutable.  Yes,  they  are  so ; 
nevertheless,  knowing  that  they  are  so,  we  have  given 
place  to  an  hypothesis  concerning  the  Divine  attributes 
which  rests  upon  no  authentic  ground  whatever.  As 
if  to  bring  before  us  the  incoherence  of  our  own  modes 
of  thinking,  it  happens  that,  the  very  next  day  after  the 
shipwreck,  we  read  listlessly  the  report  of  the  Public 
Health  ;  and  find  there  the  statement — that  "  fevers 
of  the  typhoid  class,  as  well  as  scarlatina,  have  prevailed 
durino:  the  last  few  weeks  in  crowded  districts,  and  have 
been  fatal  in  as  many  as  fifteen  hundred  cases.''  For  the 
difference  in  the  intensity  or  violence  of  our  emotions 
in  these  two  instances  we  can  give  no  very  satisfactory 
account ;  and  yet  it  is  the  lesser  woe  that  stirs  the  depths 
of  religious  meditation  ;  while  the  greater  woe  barely 
moves  thought  at  all.  The  difference  has  much  more  to 
do  with  scenic  effect,  than  either  with  reason  or  piety. 

Thought  of  strictly — in  their  theistic  import,  it  is  not 
the  destruction  of  the  cities  of  the  plain  of  Sodom,  nor 
the  overthrow  of  hundreds  of  cities  since  then  by  earth- 
quake, nor  deluges  extending  over  kingdoms,  nor  the 
prevalence  of  plagues,  nor  famines,  nor  the  extermina- 


HEBREW    POETRY.  127 

tion  of  races  by  the  sword,  tluit  in  any  way  touclics  the 
theology  of  tlie  Bible.  Tliese  catastrophes — tliese  mise- 
ries— fatal  to  nullions  of  men,  arc  all  of  them  dark 
items  in  a  catalogue  for  the  contents  of  which  no  philo- 
so})hy  has  hitherto  furnished  any  explication,  and  for 
the  ex])lication  of  which  Holy  Scripture  was  not  given, 
and  will  not  avail. 

It  is  but  few  persons,  even  among  the  educated,  who 
have  so  trained  themselves  in  the  management  of  their 
own  minds  as  to  be  able — unless  it  be  for  a  moment — 
to  take  up  a  subject  in  which  elements  are  commingled, 
and  to  sunder  these  elements,  and  to  hold  them  apart, 
and,  as  in  this  instance  is  requisite,  to  think  temperately, 
and  separately  of  what  belongs  to  the  hurnan^  or 
humanity  side  of  it,  and  of  what  is  proper  to  its  theistic 
aspect.  This,  therefore,  must  be  our  conclusion,  as  to 
sensitive  and  imperfectly  discipUned  Christian  people — 
thoughtful  and  feeling  as  they  are  : — the  blood-stained 
l)age  of  Hebrew^  history  must  continue  to  give  pain  in 
the  perusal.  Disciplined  Christian  minds,  while  perus- 
ing such  narratives — wherever  they  may  be  found — will 
read  them  with  ^9<7^V?,  but  not  with  perplexity  ;  or  with 
no  more  perplexity  than  that  which  surrounds  far  larger 
and  deeper  questions,  and  which  sheds  upon  all  an 
impenetrable  gloom. 

It  is  enough  for  our  present  purpose — and  our  inten- 
tion in  giving  any  prominence  to  the  subject  is  complet- 
ed— when  we  take  with  us,  as  unquestionable,  the  fact 
that  the  Israelite  of  those  remote  times  was  one  whose 
religious  beliefs,  and  whose  modes  of  feeling,  and  whose 
social  habitudes,  were  such  as  to  place  him  far  in 
advance  of  any  among  his  contemporaries,  or  even  of 
the  men  of  much  later  times. 


CHATTEE  YIII. 

rOETEY    IX   THE   BOOK    OF    JOB. 

^NoTHiXG  that  is  proper  to  the  textual  or  the  historic 
criticism  of  this  book,  or  of  any  other  canonical  book, 
concerns  lis  in  relation  to  our  subject  in  these  pages  ; 
and  we  have  to  do  with  it  only  so  far  as  we  lind 
tlierein  what  is  illustrative  of  our  immediate  purpose. 
Un doubt ingly  we  accept  the  claim  of  this  book  to  a 
high  antiquity ;  and  moreover  fully  admit  tlie  liistoric 
reality  of  the  persons,  as  well  as  the  canonical  validity 
of  this  portion  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures. 

Apart  from  the  proper  criticisms,  philological  and  his- 
torical, Avhich  should  determine  the  date  of  the  com- 
position, and  the  chronology  of  the  events,  and  their 
reality,  every  reader  who  is  not  prepossessed  on  the 
other  side  finds  himself  carried  back  by  the  archaic 
majesty  of  the  style,  and  by  the  breadth  of  the  ground 
it  occupies  (as  compared  with  the  more  strictly  national 
style  of  the  Prophets)  to  an  age  as  early,  at  least,  as 
that  of  the  Israelitish  settlement  in  Palestine.  Every- 
thing in  this  Book  shows  its  remoteness  from  the  Mosaic 
ritualistic  institutions,  and  from  Israelitish  modes  of 
life.  If,  indeed,  contemporaneous  with  those  times,  the 
usages  it  refers  to,  and  the  habits  of  thought  it  indicates, 
are  wholly  of  another  order.  Xor  is  this  all.  The 
purpose  and  purport  of  the  Book  of  Job  is — the  work- 
ing out,  and  the  bringing  to  an  issue,  a  great  problem 


HEBREW    POETRY.  129 

of  the  moral  system,  on  that  ground  which  the  patriar- 
clial  dispensation  occupied,  and  from  which  the  Mosaic 
institutions  moved  away,  for  admitting  what  was  pccu- 
har  to  a  more  Umited  economy.  The  patriarchal 
ground  had  been  measured  off  with  a  longer  i-adius, 
Avhich  swept  a  more  comprehensive  field  ;  and  within 
this  more  ample  circuit  there  w\as  room  for  the  agitation 
of  questions  which,  within  the  straiter  Mosaic  enclosure, 
had  met  their  determination  in  a  more  formal  manner, 
that  is  to  say,  in  the  mode  of  decisions  hy  authority. 
Within  the  range  of  those  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures 
that  follow  on  from  the  Mosaic  institutes,  and  tliat 
recognize  the  national  law,  tliere  do  not  occur  any  open 
debatings  of  universal  moral  ])roblems ;  for  every 
tlieological,  and  every  ethical  principle  is  assumed  as 
granted,  or  is  taken  w^  as  having  been  already  deter- 
mined. 

It  is  quite  otherwise  in  the  Book  of  Job,  Avhich  takes 
its  place  on  a  free  field.  The  ground  assumed  is  the 
patriarchal  ground  of  earthly  well-being,  and  the  prin- 
ciple taken  for  granted  is  that  of  a  visible  administration 
of  human  affairs,  under  the  eye  and  sovereign  control 
of  the  Righteous  and  Benign  Almighty  ; — lie  who  is 
unchangeable,  just,  and  wise,  and  good,  notes  the  ways 
of  men — He  follows  the  wicked  with  rebukes,  and  He 
rewards  and  blesses  the  good.  But  yet,  in  the  actual 
course  of  events,  this  principle  meets  many  apparent 
contradictions.  Hence  those  jjerplcxities  whicli  in  every 
age  distress  thoughtful  minds.  How  shall  these  instan- 
ces of  contrariety  be  so  disposed  of  as  shall  save  the 
fiiith  and  the  hope  of  the  servants  of  God  ?  Here,  then, 
is  the  purport  of  the  Book :  this  the  problem  that  is 
Avorked  out  in   the  arguTuents  of  the  speakers,  and  in 

6* 


130  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

the  conclusion  of  the  history ;  it  is  indeed  glanced  at 
often  in  the  Prophetic  writings,  and  in  several  of  the 
Psalms — the  Seventy-third  especially;  but  nowhere 
else  is  it  formally  debated,  and  brought  to  an  issue.* 

The  argument  of  the  Book  of  Job  beai-s — we  say — 
upon  the  visible  administration  of  the  Divine  govern- 
ment, as  related  to  the  earthly  well-being  of  those  who 
fear  and  serve  God.  Little  or  nothing  within  its  com- 
pass touches  the  inner  life,  or  opens  to  view  the  experi- 
ences of  those  who  are  under  training  for  a  more  inti- 
mate communion  with  God — the  Father  of  spirits — 
and  who  freely  court  a  discipline  the  intention  of  which 
goes  quite  beyond  the  range  of  terrestrial  rewards  and 
punishments.  Here  is  the  contrast  between  the  Book 
of  Job  and  many  of  the  Psalms : — the  order  of 
Thought  in  the  one  is  broad  and  ostensible;  in  the 
other  it  is  of  a  more  refined  species : — it  is  more 
intense,  it  is  more  peculiar,  it  is  more  full-souled  ; — in  a 
word — it  is  more  spiritual ;  and  we  use  this  sacred 
term  never  in  the  modern  mode  of  an  affected  accom- 
modation ;  but  in  its  proper,  and  its  Biblical  sense. 

Inasmuch,  then,  as  the  ground  occupied  by  the  dis- 
putants in  the  Book  of  Job  is  of  wider  circuit  than  that 
M'hereupon  the  Israelitish  Prophets  take  their  stand,  it 
might  seem  probable  that,  in  availing  themselves  as 
they  do  of  the  figurative  style,  and  in  uttering  them- 
selves after  the  fashion  of  poets,  they  should  also  use  a 
discursive  liberty  in  which,  as  we  have  said,  the  Pro- 
phets of  Israel  do  not  indulge.  But  it  is  not  so  ; — or  it 
is  so  very  partially,  in  the  speeches  and  the  rejoinders 
of  Job  and  his  three  friends,  or  of  their  young  reprover, 

*  See  Note. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  131 

Eliliii.  These  all  use  the  poetic  diction  ;  yet  only  as  a 
means  adapted  to  their  purpose.  But  then,  for  bring- 
ing the  argument  to  its  close,  and  for  winding  up  the 
history  in  accordance  with  its  intention,  anotiieu 
Speaker  comes  in — "  Then  the  Lord  answered  Job 
out  of  the  whirlwind,"  and  asks — "  Who  is  this  that 
darkeneth  counsel  by  words  without  knowledge  ?" 

Where  shall  we  find  the  grandeur  of  Poetry,  where 
s  majesty  in  language,  where  is  boldness,  fire,  or  de- 
scriptive force,  if  not  in  these  four  closing  chapters  of 
tliis  Book?  Strictly  metrical  in  structure  are  these 
passages  : — antithesis  and  apposition  prevail  throughout. 
Metnphoric  in  language — in  single  terms,  and  in  combi- 
nations of  phases  are  they  throughout:  thus  far  these 
compositions  are  in  accordance  with  the  usages  of  the 
Hebrew  prophetic  Scriptures ;  but  here  the  resem- 
blance fails,  and  the  dissimilarity  on  other  grounds  is  so 
extreme  as  to  carry  with  it,  or  rather  to  force  upon  our 
notice,  a  principle  which  has  been  once  and  again  refer- 
red to  in  these  pages,  and  which  should  receive  attention 
as  explicative  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Hebrew  Poetry. 

Throughout  the  Prophetic  writings  allusions  to  the 
material  world — the  visible  creation — are  frequent,  and 
they  are  always  bold,  forceful,  and  apt ;  yet  they  are 
brief,  and  they  are,  as  we  might  say — cursive — the 
prophet  hastens  forward — he  lingers  never :  the  allu- 
sion, when  it  has  subserved  its  purpose,  is  dismissed. 
But  in  these  closing  passages  of  the  Book  of  Job,  albeit 
a  religious  and  a  moral  inteyitlon  is  kept  in  view,  it  is  held 
in  abeyance  till  the  end ;  or  it  is  left  as  an  inference 
-svhich  the  hearer  is  required  to  gather  up  for  himself, 
and  this  inference,  or  this  intention,  gives  a  foremost 
place  to  the  material  subject :  it  is  as  if  the  visible  natural 


132  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

object  miglit,  in  its  own  right,  chnWcnge  2V'incipal  atte?i- 
tion — as  if  it  might,  by  itself,  and  irrespectively  of  every 
moral  purpose  in  relation  to  the  argument,  be  worthily 
retained  in  view,  and  be  turned  about  descriptively,  and 
be  looked  at  on  every  side.  The  things  spoken  of  stand 
in  front: — the  religious  purjiose — the  doctrine — is  to  be 
sought  for  after. 

In  these  notable  passages  it  is  the  Lord — the  Crea- 
tor— that  speaks  of,  and  that  commends,  the  works  of 
His  hands ;  and  it  is  those  of  them  He  commends — and 
it  is  for  such  of  their  qualities — as  least  comport  with 
modes  of  feeling  that  are  characteristic  of  religiously 
meditative  minds :  these  passages  are  not  of  the  fine  or 
sentimental  order : — they  give  a  bold  contradiction  to 
those  oriental  dreams  which  made  the  animal  creation 
an  occasion  of  offence  to  the  languid,  oriental  devotee ; 
and  then  their  accordance  is  to  be  noted  with  those 
juster  views  of  the  economy  of  the  animal  system  which 
modern  science  has  lately  brought  itself  to  approve.  In 
a  repeated  perusal  of  these  free  and  vigorous  descrip- 
tions— mainly  of  animal  life  as  they  are — one  feels  to 
have  reached  high  ground,  and  to  have  left  below  the 
region  of  those  delicate  surmisings  and  those  melancholic 
refinements  that  float  about  over  the  ague-levels  of  an 
over-wrought  sensitiveness.  We  are  here  called  out 
from  the  cloister  and  the  cell,  and  are  summoned  abroad  : 
— at  this  invitation  we  take  an  upward  path — we  breathe 
a  pure  air,  and  rejoice  in  sunshine.  We  are  challenged 
to  look  far  and  wide  over  a  prospect  in  the  sight  of 
which — at  some  moment  far  back  in  the  remoteness  of 
ages — "  The  morning  stars  sang  together,  and  all  the 
sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy." 

Is  the  Creation  itself,  is  this  material  organization — 


HEBREW    POETRY.  133 

class  balanced  against  class  as  it  is — welfare  pledged 
against  welfare — constituting  a  vast  antagonism  for  life 
— is  it  such  as  the  tender-spirited  among  us  would  have 
made  it  ?  It  is  not  such  : — a  robust  reason,  and  a  large 
acquaintance  with  the  conditions  and  the  structure  of 
animal  and  vegetable  life,  and  a  knowledge,  too,  of  the 
remote  dependence  of  orders  upon  orders,  are  here 
required ;  and  of  this  sort  must  be  our  seasoning  if  Ave 
would  gain  a  right  apprehension  of  the  theology  of  the 
material  world.  Thoughtful  and  delicately-constituted 
minds  need  to  be  acclimated  in  the  world  of  animal  life 
before  they  can  attain  a  healthful  intelligence  of  the 
things  around  tliem.  Let  us  be  understood  now,  as 
always,  to  sijcak  with  reverence,  and  to  keep  in  remem- 
brance what  we  profess  undoubtedly  to  believe.  "With 
this  caution  then  premised,  we  say  that,  in  these  signal 
passages  of  this  book — regarded  now  as  human  utter- 
ances— there  is  as  much  of  a  bold  and  fearless  Reason, 
as  there  is  of  the  fire  and  magnificence  of  Poetry.  The 
pictorial  vigour  of  these  descriptions  may  perhaps  have 
hidden  from  our  view  that  healthful  force  in  the  treat- 
ment of  subjects  of  this  class  which  gives  these  passages 
their  prominence  in  relation  to  other  contemporary 
modes  of  thought,  elsewhere  occurring.  Xot  of  tlie 
Brahmhiical  mintage  are  these  descriptions  ;  not  of  tlie 
Gnostic  ;  not  of  tlie  Manicha3an  ;  and  assuredly  tliey  are 
of  older  stamp  and  hue  than  were  those  instincts  of  the 
Israelite  which  had  become  to  him  a  second  nature,  and 
which  were  the  product  of  tlie  Mosaic  distinctions  of  the 
"  clean  and  the  unclean."  Free  from  trammels  of 
every  sort  are  these  poi'traitures  of  behemoth,  and  the 
unicorn,  and  of  leviathan,  and  of  the  ostrich,  and  of  the 
wild  ass,  and  of  the  war-horse.     No  way  are  theyn/ce.* 


1S4:  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

— tliey  are  in  the  very  manner  of  the  creative  energy 
itself,  such  as  we  see  it.  If  we  do  not  relish  these  de- 
sciiptions,  it  must  be  because  we  distaste  also  the  crea- 
tion ;  it  must  be  because  the  crocodile  and  cayman,  the 
boa-constrictor,  and  the  vulture,  and  the  hyaina,  and  the 
parasitical  orders,  are  not  what  we  would  have  made 
them: — it  must  be  because  the  revelations  of  the  micro- 
scope upturn  our  indoor-made  theologies. 

Inasmuch  as  these  animal  portraits  overleap  in  chro- 
nology the  wrong  theories  and  the  national  and  tempo- 
rary prejudices  of  antiquity,  and  seem  to  comport  better 
with  modern  scientific  conceptions  of  the  material  system, 
so — and  in  a  very  striking  manner — do  the  exordial 
portions  of  the  same  take  on  to  our  modern  geology: — 
they  do  so  in  breadth  or  grasp  of  handling — in  freedom 
of  conception  ;  and  especially  in  that  looking  back  to  the 
morning  time  of  the  universe  which  it  has  been  the 
work  of  recent  science  to  school  us  in.  These  utterances 
are  in  the  mode  of  a  personal  consciousness  that  is  older 
than  the  material  framework  of  the  creation : — they 
sound  like  the  Creator's  recollections  of  an  eternity  past ! 
If  they  contain  no  definite  anticipations  of  the  results 
of  modern  science,  they  are  marvellously  exempt  from 
any  approximate  error,  akin  to  the  misapprehensions 
of  later  times.  It  is  as  if  He  wdio  framed  the  world  out 
of  nothing  would  speak  of  His  work  to  a  certain  limit, 
and  not  beyond  it ;— the  truth  is  uttered  ;  but  not  the 
whole  truth. 

The  same  style  which  bespeaks  a  personal  conscious- 
ness, older  than  the  material  world,  appears  again  as  the 
mode  proper  to  a  consciousness  that  is  as  wude  as  the 
universe  of  stars.  It  is  here  as  if  the  recollections  of  an 
era  earlier  than  stellar  time  had  brought  with  them  the 


HEBREW    POETRY.  135 

associated  thought  of  the  chistered  glories  of  constella- 
tions that  are  infinitely  remote ;  and  thence,  spanning 
the  skies — of  another,  and  another,  and  yet  anotlier,  of 
the  million  groups  of  flaming  worlds.  Quick  is  this 
transit  from  era  to  era  of  eternity ;  and  quick  is  this 
transit  from  side  to  side  of  the  celestial  infinitude ;  and 
quick  again  is  the  descent  thence  to  earth,  whereupon 
Man  is  to  be  taught  that  which  concerns  himself — his 
place,  and  his  welfare! 


CHAPTER    IX. 

POETKY    IN   THE    PSALMS. 

N^EiTHER  the  authorship  of  tlie  Psalms — singly,  nor 
their  date — singly,  comes  within  the  limits  of  our  sub- 
ject ;  nor  indeed,  as  already  said,  does  any  matter  that 
is  proper  to  textual  criticism  (unless  it  be  incidentally) 
or  to  theological  interpretation  belong  to  our  task.  We 
are  to  find  in  these  compositions — the  poetical  element, 
and  are  to  note  the  conditions  which  attach  to  it,  Avhere 
Ave  find  it.  For  securing  these  purposes  it  seems  need- 
ful to  distribute  them  into  classes — clearly  distinguisli- 
able  as  most  of  them  are^  on  the  ground  of  their  style, 
their  purport,  and  their  apparent  intention. 

The  most  obviously  distinctive  of  these  classes  com- 
prises those — they  are  of  greater  length  than  others — 
which  recite  the  Hebrew  history  in  its  earlier  acts  and 
incidents;  and  which,  if  regarded  on  the  gi'ound  of  or- 
dinary national  poetry,  are  remarkable  for  their  mani- 
fest tendency  to  break  down,  or  even  to  mortify,  the 
national  pride,  and  to  keep* the  people  in  mind  of  their 
often-repeated  defections  and  apostacies.  Of  this  sort 
especially,  and  which  may  be  named  as  a  sample  of 
this  class,  is  the  106th  Psalm.  The  recital  of  national 
offences  begins  with  the  penitential  profession — "  Vv'e 
have  sinned  with  our  fathers,  we  have  committed  ini- 
quity, we  have  done  wickedly ;"  and  its  concluding 
stanzas  (v.  40 — 48)  suggest  the  supposition — apart  from 


HEBREW    POETRY.  187 

any  critical  reasons — that  this  ocle  was  of  a  late  date — 
probably  as  late  as  the  return  of  the  people  from  Baby- 
lon. Tlie  reflective  tone  of  this  summary  of  national 
history  gives  the  impression  of  a  retrospect,  from  a 
point  of  view  the  most  remote  from  the  times  spoken 
of.  A  congregational  Psalm  it  manifestly  is: — it  sup- 
poses, in  the  people,  a  now-matured  religious  feeling, 
abhorrent  of  idol-worship,  and  at  length  so  thoroughly 
weaned  from  errors  of  that  kind,  as  to  treat  them  con- 
temptuously. A  Psalm  of  feeling  and  sentiment  it  is, 
metrical,  but  not  poetical. 

Seventeen  of  the  Psalms*  may  be  classed  together 
under  this  designation — as  recitals  of  the  national  his- 
tory, this  being  regarded  always  in  its  religious  aspect, 
and  always  more  for  jjurposes  of  penitential  humiliation 
than  of  glorification.  And  we  note  in  all  of  them  the 
absolute  avoidance  of  certain  elements  which,  in  national 
odes  intended  for  popular  use  on  festive  occasions,  is  a 
circumstance  full  of  significance.  These  wanting  ele- 
ments are  what  might  promote  sacerdotal,  or  rather, 
liierarchical  aggrandisement: — the  despotic,  and  also 
the  heroic  style,  or  the  idolization  of  the  ancient  warriors 
and  sages  of  the  nation.  In  the  loftiest  and  the  purest 
sense  these  odes  are  theistic;  and  so  they  are,  whether 
the  times  be  bright  or  dark.  Look  to  the  44th  Psalm, 
and  to  the  46th,  which  breathe  the  sublimity  of  a  tran- 
quil faith,  rising  above  the  storms  of  earth.  The  retui-n 
of  the  soul  is  ever  to  its  resting-place,  as  in  Ps.  60  : 
"  Give  us  help  from  trouble :  for  vain  is  the  help  of 
man."     The    68th   Psalm — if  now   we   might   imagine 

*  These  seventeen  Psalms,  are  Pss.  44,  4G,  GO,  68,  74,  75,  76,  78, 
79,  80,  81,  8:5,  85,  105,  106,  126,  137. 


188  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

tlie  scenes,  the  sounds,  and  the  circumstances,  when, 
under  management  of  "  the  cliief  musician,''  tlie  courts 
of  the  temple  shook  with  its  chorus,  and  the  "  great 
congregation,"  keeping  holiday,  joined  their  voices  with 
the  ministers  around  the  altar,  we  should  have,  in 
sounds,  in  feeling,  all  that  poetry  and  music  combines, 
and  the  depths  of  religious  awe  have  ever  done,  or  might 
ever  do,  to  exalt  the  spirit  of  man,  and  to  carry  popular 
emotion  to  the  highest  pitch.  No  wonder  that,  in  re- 
collection of  seasons  such  as  these,  the  exiled  w^anderer 
in  the  wilderness  should  think  "  the  tabernacles  of  God 
amiable,"  or  that  he  should  expend  sighs  in  terms  like 
these — "  My  soul  longeth,  yea  even  fainteth  for  the 
courts  of  the  Lord :  my  heart  and  my  flesh  crieth  out 
for  the  living  God." — "  A  day  in  thy  courts  is  better 
than  a  thousand  " — spent  in  pavilions  of  luxury. 

No  spot  on  earth  was  there  then — none  has  there 
been  since — that  might  claim  comparison  with  that 
"  Hill  of  the  Lord  "  whereupon,  under  the  blue  vault 
of  heaven,  these  national  anthems  were  performed,  and 
took  effect  with  every  aid  of  a  composite  musical  system 
— with  the  harmony  of  instruments  and  voices — with 
the  popular  acclamation — with  the  visible  adornments 
of  the  temple  and  its  awful  sacrificial  rites.  Li  our  dull 
perfunctory  recitations  of  these  anthems  of  the  Hebrew 
nation  we  quite  fail  to  estimate  wdiat  was  their  power, 
their  majesty,  and  beauty,  when  and  where  they  got 
utterance  at  the  first.  Nor  can  it  be  within  the  chill 
gloom  of  our  Gothic  cathedrals — let  modern  music  and 
the  ororan  do  its  best — that  an  idea  can  be  formed  of  the 
commingled  sublimities  of  that  ancient  w'orship — true  in 
its  theology — perfect  in  its  metrical  and  its  musical  ex- 
pressions— lofty,  and  yet  reverential  in  its  tone — humanis- 


HEBREW    POETRY.  139 

ing  in  its  sentiments,  and  withal  indigenous — Jiomefelt — 
national — near  to  the  lieart  and  recollections  of  the 
worsliippers : — a  worship  homogeneous,  and  which  was 
especially  in  accordance  with  every  belief  and  every 
sentiment  of  that  age,  and  of  that  people.  There  is 
more  in  this  last  condition  than  we  may  have  been 
used  to  suppose.  Turn  now  for  a  moment  to  this  G8th 
Psalm. 

Fi-igid,  narrow,  unrealizing  is  that  exceptive  criti- 
cism which  fails  to  see  and  to  feel  the  divine  majesty — 
the  super-human  truth  and  greatness  of  that  worship  of 
which,  in  this  instance,  we  have  a  sample.  Along  with 
these  ascriptions  of  majesty,  power,  goodness,  to  God 
— the  God  of  Israel — there  are  those  pieties  of  the 
affections  of  which  no  instances  whatever  are  extant 
anywhere — out  of  the  circuit  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures. 
God  is  "  a  Father  of  the  fatherless,  and  a  judge  of  the 
"widows  " — who  also  "  setteth  the  solitary  in  families, 
and  bringeth  out  those  which  are  bound  in  chains." 
Verse,  linked  in  with  verse,  are  the  images  of  power 
and  majesty,  Avrought  into  one  mass  with  ideas  of  benefi- 
cence and  of  mercy. 

The  chariots  of  God — twenty  thousand-thousands  of  angels. 

The  Lord  is  among  them  (as  in)  Sinai,  in  the  Holy. 

Thou  hast  ascended  on  high— 

Leading  captivity  captive : 

Thou  hast  received  gifts  for  men ; 

Yea  the  rebellious  also,  that  the  Lord  God  might  dwell  (among  them.) 

But  now,  in  our  modern  recitations  of  this  anthem, 
and  of  others  of  the  same  order,  the  flow  of  feeling  is 
checked  by  the  occurrence  of  expressions  that  run  coun- 
ter to,  or  that  go  far  beyond,  the  range  of  our  christian- 


140  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

ized  sentiments.  So  it  is  here  at  the  very  start — "  Let 
God  arise,  let  his  enemies  be  scattered."  And  after- 
wards— "The  Lord  shall  bring  his  people  from  the 
de[)ths  of  the  sea — that  thy  foot  may  be  dipped  in  the 
blood  of  thine  enemies ;  and  the  tongue  of  thy  dogs  in 
the  same.  Undoubtedly  we  stay  the  course  of  our 
sympathies  at  points  such  as  these !  It  could  only  be  at 
rare  moments  of  national  anguish  and  deliverance  that 
expressions  of  this  order  could  be  assimilated  with 
modern  feelings.  What  then  should,  be  our  inference? 
It  should  not  be  of  the  confused  or  compromising  sort 
— taking  what  we  approve— and  rejecting  this  verse, 
or  that  verse ;  nor  should  our  inference  be  timid  and 
pusillanimous,  as  if  we  were  careful  to  shun  some  appre- 
hended ill  consequence ;  our  inference  should  not  be 
drawn  from  a  theology  which  is  hypothetic — which  is 
a  mixture  of  our  own  abstract  notions,  with  Christian 
principles.  These  war-energies  of  the  Hebrew  mind,  in 
a  past  time,  were  proper  to  the  people,  and  to  the  age; 
and  would  continue  to  be  so  until  that  revolution  in  reli- 
gious feeling  had  been  brought  about  which,  in  abating 
national  enthusiasm,  and  in  bringing  immortality  into 
the  place  of  earthly  welfare,  gave  a  wholly  new  direc- 
tion to  every  element  of  the  moral  system.  Difficult 
indeed  it  may  be — perhaps  it  is  quite  impossible — for 
the  modern  mind,  with  its  training,  which  has  become 
to  it  a  second  nature,  to  go  back  to  that  "  Hill  of  God," 
and  to  join  in  the  loud  acclamations  of  the  people.  Yet 
if  we  could  do  so,  we  should  doubtless  find  that  the 
battle-force  of  parts  in  the  national  worship  did  not  in 
any  way  make  discord  with  the  loftiest  and  the  purest 
religious  emotions.  We  of  this  time  are  so  schooled  in 
amenities,  we  are  so  softened  and  sublimed,  that  a  de- 


HEBREW    POETRY.  141 

tcrmincd  effort,  which  few  of  us  can  make,  is  needed 
for  carrying  us  back  to  tlie  place  and  era  of  these  an- 
thems— full  as  they  are  of  power,  as  well  as  of  piety. 
Always  is  the  martial  mood  tempered  with  humiliating 
recollections  of  national  sins: — never  is  it  exalted  by 
any  flattery  of  chiefs  or  kings:— never  does  this  mar- 
tial force  seek  to  enhance  itself  (as  has  been  its  tendency 
always  among  other  people)  by  ambitious  vauntings  of 
conquests  meditated — even  for  the  spread  of  truth :  the 
conversion  of  the  heathen  is  never  connected  with  con- 
quests to  be  effected  by  the  sword.  Mahomet  and  his 
caliphs  could  find  nothing  in  these  anthems  that  would 
be  available  for  the  purposes  of  Islam. 

The  intention  of  these  national  and  historical  poems, 
and  their  tone  and  spirit,  are  well  seen  in  the  '78tli 
Psulm.  The  intention  was — the  religious  education  of 
the  people,  from  the  earliest  childhood  upward :  the 
tone  and  spirit  are  such  as  could  not  fail  to  form  the 
Hebrew  mind  to  greatness,  to  depth  and  soberness  of 
feeling,  and  to  a  profound  consciousness  of  that  Provi- 
dential Government  which  fitted  the  people  for  other 
and  higher  purposes  than  those  of  national  aggrandise- 
ment. This  metrical  summary  of  the  people's  history 
— majestic  in  its  imagery,  and  musical  (even  in  a  trans- 
lation) and  so  poised  in  its  couplets  and  triplets  as  that 
little  of  change  would  be  needed  for  bringing  it  under 
the  conditions  of  rhythm,  in  any  translation — would, 
in  its  own  Hebrew,  and  to  the  Hebrew  ear,  commend 
itself  at  once  as  poetry,  as  music,  and  as  devout  senti- 
ment. Such  was  its  purpose.  The  wonders  of  the 
Divine  Government  from  the  remotest  times  were  to  be 
fixed  in  the  memory  of  children's  children  to  the  end 
of  time. 


142  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

Showing  to  the  generations  to  come  the  praises  of  the  Lord, 
And  his  strength  and  his  wonderful  works  that  he  hath  done. ' 

These — thus  trained,  should  in  their  turn  teach  them 
to— 

The  children  which  should  be  bom  ; 

Who  should  arise,  and  declare  them  to  their  children: 

That  they  might  set  their  hope  in  God, 

And  not  forget  the  works  of  God, 

But  keep  his  commandments. 

The  recitations  that  follow  have  all  the  same  purport ; 
they  are  as  from  God — a  remonstrance — a  rebuke  ;  and 
yet  such  as  gave  assurance  always  to  the  contrite  and 
obedient.  If  this  poem  be  taken  as  an  inauguration 
of  the  monarchy  under  David,  then  should  we  not 
note  the  archaic  majesty,  and  the  modesty  of  its  closing 
verses  ?  The  enemies  of  Israel  had  been  discomfited, 
and  put  "  to  a  perpetual  reproach  " — the  monarchy  was 
now  established  upon  Zion — the  city  was  adorned  with 
palaces  and  strengthened  with  bulwarks,  and  thus  peace 
was  established  by  the  arm,  and  under  the  rule  of  this 
David,  whom  God  had  chosen : — his  servant,  whom  he 
had  taken 

from  the  sheepfolds ; 


From  following  the  ewes,  great  with  young, 

He  brought  him  to  feed  Jacob  his  people, 

And  Israel  his  inheritance. 

So  he  fed  them  according  to  the  integrity  ot  his  heart ; 

And  guided  them  by  the  skilfulness  of  his  hands. 

It  was  the  warrior  David  whose  own  arm  had  been 
the  instrument  of  the  victories  which  at  length  had 
given  rest  to  the  people,  and  had  confirmed  them  in 
their  hitherto   precarious   occupation    of  the   land  as- 


HEBREW    POETRY.  143 


signed  them.  To  the  Poet-king  tliis  composition  is  at- 
tributed ;  and  if  rightly  so,  then  had  he  himself  learned 
a  religious  humility  which  few  indeed  of  his  class — 
high-born  or  low-born — have  understood.  But  if  there 
were  reasons  for  assigning  this  Psalm  to  a  bard  of  a 
later  time  (not  that  any  such  reasons  are  pretended) 
then  this  avoidance  of  the  magnifying  of  a  people's 
ancient  heroes  is  the  more  noticeable,  for  it  is  an  absti- 
nence which,  as  it  has  no  parallels  in  other  national 
poetry,  so  does  it  find  its  explication  only  on  that 
ground  where  the  history  of  this  one  people  can  be 
exempt  from  contradictions — which  is  the  ground  of  its 
supernatural  attestations. 

Distinguishable  from  the  above-mentioned  are  those 
of  the  Psalms — they  may  be  reckoned  as  twenty* — 
which,  looking  at  them  apart  from  the  guidance  (if  in- 
deed it  be  guidance)  of  textual  criticism,  declare  their 
own  intention  as  anthems,  adapted  for  that  public  wor- 
ship which  was  the  glory  and  delight  of  the  Hebrew 
people  ; — a  worship  carrying  with  it  the  soul  of  the  mul- 
titude by  its  simple  majesty,  and  by  the  powers  of 
music,  brought,  in  their  utmost  force,  to  recommend 
the  devotions  of  earth  in  the  hearing  of  Heaven.  Take 
the  last  of  the  Psalms  as  a  sample  of  this  class,  and 
bring  the  spectacle  and  the  sounds  into  one,  for  the 
imagination  to  rest  in.  It  was  evidently  to  subserve 
the  purposes  of  music  that  these  thirteen  verses  are  ])ut 
together :  it  was,  no  doubt,  to  give  effect  first  to  the 
human  voice,  and  then,  to  the  alternations  of  instru- 
ments— loud,   and  tender,   and  gay,  with  the  graceful 

*  The  Psalms  here  referred  to  are  tliese — 24,  47,  48,  87,  95,  96,  97, 
98,  99,  100,  108,  114,  117,  118,  122,  132,  134,  148,  149,  150. 


144:  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


movements  of  the  dance — that  the  antliem  was   com- 
posed, and  its  chorus  brought  out — 

Let  evcr}'^  thing  tliat  hath  breath  praise  the  Lord : 
Praise  ye  the  Lord ! 

and  so  did  the  congregated  thousands  take  up  their  part 
with  a  shout — "  even  as  the  noise  of  many  waters." 

It  is  but  feebly,  and  as  afar  off,  that  the  ancient  Utur- 
gies  (except  so  far  as  they  merely  copied  their  originals) 
came  up  to  the  majesty  and  the  wide  compass  of  the 
Hebrew  worship,  such  as  it  is  indicated  in  the  148th 
Psalm.  Neither  Ambrose,  nor  Gregory,  nor  the  Greeks, 
have  reached  or  approached  this  level ;  and  in  temper- 
ing the  boldness  of  their  originals  by  admixtures  of 
what  is  more  Christian-like  and  spiritual,  the  added 
elements  sustain  an  injury  which  is  not  compensated  by 
what  they  bring  forward  of  a  purer,  or  a  less  earthly 
kind :  feeble  indeed  is  the  tone  of  those  anthems  of  the 
ancient  Church — sophisticated  or  artificial  is  their  style. 
Nor  would  it  be  possible — it  has  never  yet  seemed  so — 
to  Christianize  the  Hebrew  anthems — retaining  their 
power,  their  earth-like  richness,  and  their  manifold 
splendours — which  are  the  very  splendours,  and  the 
true  riches,  and  the  grandeur  of  God's  world — and 
withal  attempered  with  expressions  that  touch  to  the 
quick  the  warmest  liinnan  sympathies.  And  as  the 
enhancement  of  all  there  is  the  nationality^  there  is  that 
fire  which  is  sure  to  kindle  fire  in  true  human  hearts — 

He  showeth  liis  word  unto  Jacob, 
His  statutes  and  his  judgments  unto  Israel. 
He  hath  not  dealt  so  with  any  nation : 
As  for  his  judgments  they  have  not  known  them, 
Praise  ye  the  Lord  1 


HEBREW    POETRY.  145 

Nothing  tliat  mediieval  Gothic  has  achieved — nothing 
that  modern  music  has  effected,  can  be  sufficient  for 
cai'rying  the  modern  worshipper  back  to  that  place  and 
age  Avhere  and  when  these  anthems  "made  glad  the 
city  of  the  Great  Khig."  As  to  the  powers  of  Sacred 
Poetry,  those  powers  were  expanded  to  the  full,  and 
were  quite  expended  too  by  the  Hebrew  bards.  What 
are  modern  hymns  but  so  many  laborious  attempts  to 
put  in  a  new  form,  that  which,  as  it  was  done  in  the 
very  best  manner  so  many  ages  ago,  can  never  be  well 
done  again — otherwise  than  in  the  way  of  a  verbal 
repetition. 

About  thirty-three  Psalms  might  be  brought  toge- 
ther, forming  a  class  of  odes  which,  although  many 
or  most  of  them  probably,  took  their  turn  in  the  respon- 
sive services  of  the  Temple,  are  less  conspicuously  litur- 
gical, and  have  for  tlieir  principal  subject  the  attributes 
of  God — His  wonders  of  power  in  the  creation — His 
providence  and  bounty,  and  His  righteous  government 
of  mankind.*  As  samj)les  of  this  class  we  might  take 
the  8th  Psalm,  and  the  19th,  the  29th,  the  50th,  the 
C5th,  the  90th,  and  the  91st.  In  truth  a  selection  of 
specimens  of  this  class  is  not  easily  made,  for  every  one 
of  those  named  below  might  Avell  stand  as  a  representa- 
tive of  the  others. 

With  these  brilliant  poems  before  us,  let  us  imagine 
the  thirty-three,  or  we  might  now  add  to  them  the 
twenty  anthems  of  public  worship  already  named — 
fifty-three  odes  and  anthems — printed  by  themselves, 
without  note,  comment,  or  any  other  literary  or  histori- 

*  These  Psalms  of  Adoration  are  the  following:— 8,  18,  19,  20,  29, 
33,  34,  49,  50,  65,  66,  67,  82,  86,  89,  90,  91,  92,  93,  104,  107,  111, 
112,  113,  115,  121,  123,  125,  135,  136,  145,  146,  147. 

7 


146  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

cal  information  connected  with  them,  save  this  only — 
that  in  some  mode  of  indubitable  transmission,  these 
compositions  had  come  into  our  hands  from  a  remote 
antiquity,  and  that  they  were  the  only  extant  remains 
of  a  people,  long  since  scattered  and  perished,  concern- 
ing whose  fortunes,  institutions,  beliefs,  manners,  we 
could  know^  nothing  more  than  wiiat  might  bo  gathered 
from  the  remains  now  in  vieAV\  The  reader  who  will 
give  himself  the  pains  to  do  so,  must  put  far  from  his 
thoughts  the  entire  mass  of  his  Bible  beliefs — all  his 
recollections  of  the  pulpit,  and  the  desk,  and  of  contro- 
versies, and  of  his  own  conclusions — thereto  related — 
whethei*  they  be  orthodox  or  heterodox.  Thus  strip- 
ped of  his  modern  self,  let  him  read  the  65th  Psalm, 
and  let  him  open  his  heart,  and  mind  too,  to  admit — 
the  largeness  of  its  intention — the  width  of  its  look-out 
upon  the  world — the  justness  of  its  theism — if  indeed  a 
Creator  is  acknowledged,  and  if  the  Creator  be  good 
also — the  warmth  of  its  piety,  and  the  gladsomeness  of 
its  temper,  and  the  landscape  freshness  of  its  images  ; 
and  withal  the  preparation  wliicli  is  made  in  its  exordium 
for  the  outpourings  of  a  grateful  piety,  by  the  open 
confession  of  sin,  and  the  deep  consciousness  of  it  as  the 
reason  of  the  Divine  displeasure.  This  ode  supposes — 
it  connotes — an  instituted  congregational  worship — a 
temple,  a  liturgy,  and  a  teaching  ! 

What  then  were  these  people — what  their  theology 
—what  their  ethics — what  their  liistory  ?  How  can 
it  have  come  about,  or  why,  under  the  Providential 
Government  of  the  world,  that  a  people  which  was  thus 
highly  instructed — was  thus  immeasurably  advanced 
beyond  any  others  of  antiquity — should  have  fallen 
from  their  position,  and  have  disappeared  from  the  mus-" 


HEBREW    POETRY.  147 

ter-roll  of  the  nations — leaving  no  monuments  of  them- 
selves— these  odes  only  excepted,  wliich  liave  drifted 
down  upon  the  deluge-surface  of  human  affairs?  In  its 
attempts  to  answer  these,  and  such  like  questions,  spe- 
culation might  wander  f\ir,  and  tind  no  conclusion  ;  but 
whatever  might  be  our  surmises,  as  to  the  catastr()})hes 
of  such  a  people,  or  their  ajwstacies,  or  the  gradual 
decay  among  them  of  their  ])ristine  virtue,  nothing 
could  destroy  the  evidence  which  is  here  in  our  own 
liands,  to  this  effect,  that — on  some  spot  on  earth,  and 
in  some  remote  age,  there  was  once  a  people  fully  pos- 
sessed of  the  highest  truths,  and  so  possessed  of  these 
truths  as  to  have  assimilated  them  with  its  moral 
sentiments,  and  with  its  tastes  also ;  for  its  perceptions 
toward  the  visible  world  were  alive  to  whatever  is  beau- 
tiful therein. 

If  such  a  perusal — if  such  a  digestion  of  this  one  ode 
brings  into  view,  with  the  vividness  of  vision,  this  lost 
theistic  nation — then  go  on  to  peruse  the  other  fifty  of 
this  collection  ;  for  these,  in  their  different  modes,  will 
give  evidence  touching  each  leading  principle  of  what  we 
admit  to  be  a  true  theology,  and  a  true  belief  concern- 
ing the  Creative  Power,  and  a  true  belief  in  Providence, 
and  the  righteous  government,  and  gracious  administra- 
tion of  that  Providence  toward  mankind,  who  are  dealt 
with  in  their  weakness,  and  their  failings,  and  their  sins. 
Vivid  as  these  poems  are,  and  full  of  force,  and  of  feel- 
ing, and  abounding  as  they  do  in  allusions  to  the  things 
of  the  time,  it  is  not  credible  that  they  are  mere  inven- 
tions, which  had  no  archetypes  in  the  mind  and  usages 
of  a  people.  This  may  not  be  thought.  It  is  certain 
then  that  there  has  once  been  a  })eople  among  the 
nations — there  has  been  one  amoiio:  the  millions  of  the 


148  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

worshippers  of  stocks — there   has   been    one   people — 
taught  of  God. 

The  90th  Psalm  might  be  cited  as  perhaps  the  most 
sublime  of  human  compositions — the  deepest  in  feeUng — 
the  loftiest  in  theologic  concej^tion — the  most  magnificent 
in  its  imagery.  True  is  it  in  its  report  of  human  life — 
as  troubled,  transitory,  and  sinful.  True  in  its  concep- 
tion of  the  Eternal — the  Sovereign  and  the  Judge  ; 
and  yet  the  refuge  and  hope  of  men,  who,  notwithstand- 
ing the  most  severe  trials  of  their  f;iith,  lose  not  their 
confidence  in  Him  ;  but  who,  in  the  firmness  of  faith — 
pray  for,  as  if  they  Avcre  predicting,  a  near-at-hand 
season  of  refreshment.  Wi-apped,  one  might  say — in 
mystery,  until  the  distant  day  of  revelation  should  come, 
there  is  here  conveyed  the  doctrine  of  Immortality ;  for 
in  this  very  plaint  of  the  brevity  of  the  life  of  man,  and 
of  the  sadness  of  these,  his  few  years  of  trouble,  and 
their  brevity,  and  their  gloom,  there  is  brought  into  con- 
trast, the  Divine  immutability  ;  and  yet  it  is  in  terms  of 
a  submissive  piety :  the  thought  of  a  life  eternal  is  here 
in  embryo.  No  taint  is  there  in  this  Psalm  of  the  pride 
and  petulance — the  half  uttered  blasphemy — the  malign 
disputing  or  arraignment  of  the  justice  or  goodness  of 
God,  wiiich  have  so  often  shed  a  venomous  colour  upon 
the  language  of  those  who  have  writhed  in  anguish,  per- 
sonal or  relative.  There  are  few  probably  among  those 
who  have  passed  througli  times  of  bitter  and  distracting 
woe,  or  who  have  stood — the  helpless  spectators  of  the 
miseries  of  others,  that  have  not  fallen  into  moods  of 
mind  violently  in  contrast  with  the  devout  and  hopeful 
melancholy  which  breathes  throughout  tliis  ode.  Right- 
ly attributed  to  the  Hebrew  Lawgiver  or  not,  it  bespeaks 
its  remote  anti(piity,  not  merely  by  the  majestic  simpli- 


HEBREW    POETRY.  149 

city  of  its  style,  but  negatively,  by  the  entire  avoidance 
of  those  sophisticated  turns  of  thouglit  which  belong  to 
a  late — a  lost  age  in  a  people's  intellectual  and  moral 
history.  This  Psalm,  undoubtedly,  is  centuries  older 
than  the  moralizings  of  that  time  when  the  Jewisli  mind 
liad  listened  to  what  it  could  never  bring  into  a  true 
assimilation  with  its  own  miud — the  abstractions  of  the 
Greek  Philosophy. 

With  this  one  Psalm  only  in  view — if  it  were  required 
of  us  to  say,  in  brief,  what  we  mean  by  the  phrase — 
"  The  Spirit  of  the  Hebrew  Poetry" — we  find  our  an- 
swer well  condensed  in  this  sample.  This  magnificent 
composition  gives  evidence,  not  merely  as  to  the  mental 
qualities  of  the  writer,  but  as  to  the  tastes  and  habi- 
tudes of  the  writer's  contemporaries,  liis  hearers,  and 
his  readers  ;  on  these  several  points— ^y'5^,  the  free  and 
customary  command  of  a  poetic  diction,  and  its  flicile 
imagery  ;  so  that  whatever  the  poetic  soul  would  utter, 
the  poet's  material  is  near  at  hand  for  his  use.  There  is 
then  that  depth  of  feeling — mournful,  reflective,  and  yet 
hopeful  and  trustful,  apart  from  which  poetry  can  win 
for  itself  no  higher  esteem  than  what  we  bestow  upon 
other  decorative  arts,  which  minister  to  the  demands  of 
luxurious  sloth.  There  is,  moreover,  as  we  might  say, 
underlaying  this  Poem,  from  the  first  line  to  the  last, 
the  substance  of  philosophic  thought,  apart  from  which, 
expressed  or  understood,  Poetry  is  frivolous,  and  is  not 
in  harmony  Avith  the  seriousness  of  human  life:  this 
Psalm  is  of  a  sort  which  Plato  would  have  written,  or 
Sophocles — if  only  the  one  or  the  other  of  these  minds 
had  possessed  a  heaven-descended  Theology. 

This,  then,  is  our  conclusion.— The  Hebrew  writers 
as  Poets — such  a  writer  as  was  the  author  of  this  Psalm 


150  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

— were  innsters  of  all  the  means  and  the  resources,  the 
j»o\vers  and  the  stores,  of  tlie  loftiest  poetry;  but  the 
fiph'if  of  this  poetry  is,  with  them  always,  its  instrumen- 
tality— its  absolute  subordination  and  subserviency  to  a 
far  loftier  purpose  than  that  which  ever  animates  human 
genius. 

There  is  a  small  number  of  the  Psalms,  eleven  only,* 
of  which  Psalms  37  and  73  might  be  named  as  sam})les. 
The  tone  of  these  odes  is  meditative  and  ethical :  they 
represent  those  balancing  thonglits  by  aid  of  which  the 
pious,  in  comparing  tlieir  own  lot,  such  as  often  it  is, 
with  the  lot  of  the  ungodly,  or  with  the  outside  show 
of  that  lot,  bring  their  mind  to  an  even  balance,  and 
restore  its  hopeful  confidence  in  the  Divine  favour.  These 
Psalms  are  metrical,  indeed,  but  they  are  not  poetical ; 
although  the  terms  employed  are  all  figurative,  and  are 
some  of  them  resplendent  with  a  mild  radiance,  as  pic- 
tures of  earthly  well-being  under  the  favour  of  God, 
and,  as  to  their  domestic  quality,  they  are  peculiarly 
characteristic  of  the  Hebrew  social  feeling,  which  was  at 
once  domestic — national — pacific. 

Behold,  how  good  and  pleasant  {it  is) 
Tor  brethren  to  dwell  together  m  unity. 

As  if  in  rebuke  of  the  turmoil,  and  the  ambition,  and 
the  greediness  of  city  life,  the  IlebrcAV  bard  commends 
rather  the  quiet  enjoyments  of  the  Aome  life,  and  espe- 
cially if  home  life  be  rural  life  also. 

Vain  for  you  to  rise  up  early,  to  sit  up  late, 

To  eat  the  bread  of  sorrows : 

So  he  giveth  his  beloved  sleep. 

Lo,  children  are  (the)  heritage  of  the  Lord : 

*  These  Psalms  are— 1,  15,  87,  53,  G2,  73,  101,  127,  128,  133,  139. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  151 

The  fniit  of  the  womb  (hi^)  reward, 

As  arrows  in  the  hand  of  a  mighty  man, 

So  are  sons  of  the  youth  {sons  of  early  married  life). 

Happy  is  the  man  that  hath  his  quiver  full  of  them. 

They  shall  not  be  ashamed, 

But  they  shall  speak  with  the  enemies  in  the  gate. 

Tliere  are  bore  combined  several  elements  of  tbe  He- 
brew life,  antl  more  so  still  in  tbe  Psalm  following — a 
song  of  degrees — a  song  in  tbe  cbanting  of  wbicb  tbe 
fatigues  of  the  annual  journeyings  to  tbe  House  of  tbe 
Lord  were  sootbed. 

Happy  is  every  one  that  feareth  the  Lord : 

That  walks  in  His  ways: 

The  labour  of  thy  hands  thou  shalt  eat : 

It  is  well  with  thee — and  {shall  he)  well  with  thee : 

Thy  wife  is  a  fruitful  vine,  in  the  inner  house: 

Thy  sons  as  olive  plants  round  about  thy  table. 

Behold  thus  shall  the  man  be  blessed, 

Who  fears  the  Lord. 

The  Lord  will  bless  thee  out  of  Zion.* 

Thou  shalt  see  the  prosperity  of  Jerusalem  all  thy  days. 

And  see  thy  children's  children. 

Vea — peace  upon  Israel. 

Tbese  pictures  are  mild  and  brigbt : — bumanizing 
are  tbey  in  tbe  best  sense : — tbey  retain  certain  ele- 
ments of  Paradise  ; — and  yet  more,  tbe  elements  of  tbe 
Patriarchal  era  ;  witb  tbe  addition  of  tbat  patriotism, 
and  of  tbat  concentration  in  wbicb  tlie  Patriarclial  life 
was  wanting.  Tbe  happy  religious  man,  after  the  He- 
brew pattern,  possessed  those  feelings  and  habitudes 
which,  if  tbey  greatly  prevail  in  a  community,  impart 
to  it  tbe  strength  of  a  combination  which  is  stronger 

*  The  meaning  of  this  line  is  found  in  Numbers  v.  22 — 27 


152  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

than  any  other,  uniting  the  force  of  domestic  virtue,  of 
rural  (yeoman-like)  agricultural  occupations,  of  unag- 
gressive defensive  valour,  and  of  a  religious  animation 
which  is  national^  as  well  as  authentic  and  true.  Our 
modern  learning  in  oriental  modes  of  life,  and  its  cir- 
cumstance and  scenery,  may  help  us  to  bring  into  view 
either  of  two  gay  pictures — that  of  the  Hebrew  man  in 
mid-life,  at  rest  in  his  country  home,  with  his  sturdy 
sons  about  him  :  his  wife  is  s^till  young :  her  fair  daughters 
are  like  cornices,  sculptured  as  decorations  for  a  palace. 
Or  else  the  companion  j^icture,  with  its  group  on  their  way 
Zion-ward,  resting,  for  the  sultry  noon-hour,  under  the 
palms  by  the  side  of  a  stream  ;^-and  yet  home — happy 
liome,  is  in  the  recollection  of  the  party  :  but  tlie  Hill  of 
God — "  whereunto  the  tribes  of  tlie  Lord  go  iTp" — is  in 
the  fervent  purpose  of  all ;  and  while  they  rest  they 
beguile  the  time  with  a  sacred  song,  and  with  its  sooth- 
ing melody.  Happy  were  the  people  while  their  mind 
was  such  as  this,  and  such  their  habits,  and  such  their 
piety  I  and  this  was  a  piety  which,  along  with  true  con- 
ceptions of  God,  was  well  used  to  those  humbling  medi- 
tations that  give  to  the  soul  its  calmness  and  its  strength 
too — 

Lord,  what  is  man  that  thou  takest  knowledge  of  him  I 
Tlie  son  of  the  dying,  that  thou  makest  account  of  him ! 
Man — like  to  vanity  ! 
His  days  are  as  a  flitting  shadow  1 

In  other  Psalms  of  this  class — as  in  the  73rd — the 
religious  doctrine  takes  j)lace  of  the  earthly  sentiment. 
The  exceptional  instance,  namely,  that  of  afflicted  piety, 
is  taken  up  and  discussed ;  the  sufferer  narrates  his 
own  experience  on  this  ground;  and  yet  he  premises 


HEBREW    POETRY.  153 

his  coiiclusioii,  that,  after  all,  the  Hebrew  principle  holds 
good  ;  for  "  truly,  God  is  good  to  Israel,  to  such  as  are 
of  a  clean  heart."  In  these  compositions,  feeling — piety 
— the  truth  of  things,  prevail  over  poetry;  nevertheless, 
they  bring  into  view  glimpses  of  modes  of  life  upon 
which  the  modern  imagination  may  dwell  with  sweet 
and  soothing  satisfaction. 

The  class  next  to  be  named  includes  many  of  the 
Psalms  (thirty,  or  more),*  and  they  are  not  easily 
grouped  under  a  fitting  designation  which  may  be 
ai)plicable  to  all  of  them.  They  are  mdividual  and 
personal — not  congregational — not  liturgical.  They  are 
expressive  of  those  alternations  of  anguish,  dismay,  hope, 
trust,  indignation,  or  even  of  deeper  resentments,  which 
agitate  the  soul  of  one  whose  lot  is  cast  among  the 
malignant,  the  cruel,  the  unreasonable ;  or,  in  a  word, 
the  dwellers  in  Mesech — the  ungodly.  These  Psalms,  or 
most  of  them,  aie  David's  own,  and  they  are  to  be 
interpreted  severally,  by  aid  of  his  history,  in  its  earlier 
part  especially.  Neither  with  this  history,  nor  with  the 
quality  of  the  emotions  that  give  an  impassioned  tone 
to  these  compositions,  are  we  here  directly  concerned. 
Fully  to  realize  circumstances  and  states  of  mind,  such 
as  are  here  brought  into  view,  we — in  these  easy  times 
— must  travel  far  away  from  the  secure  and  tranquil 
meadow  lands  of  ordinary  life.  But  there  have  been 
tens  of  thousands,  in  ages  past,  who  have  trodden  the 
rugged  heaven-ward  road,  and  have  found  it  to  be  a  way, 
not  merely  thorny  and  flinty  to  the  foot,  but  beset  with 
terrors  ;  for  spiteful  and  remorseless  men  have  couched 

*  The  Psalms  of  this  class  are— 3,  4,  5,  7,  9,  10,  11,  12,  U,  14,  17, 
21,  35,  36,  41,  52,  54,  55,  56,  58,  59,  04,  77,  94,  1U9,  120,  124,  129, 
140,  144. 

7^ 


15i  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

beside  this  narrow  way,  and  have  rendered  it  terrible  to 
the  pilgi'ini : — a  path  of  anguish  and  of  many  fears  it 
lias  been.  In  our  drowsy  repetitions  of  these  Psalms — 
cushioned  as  we  are,  upon  the  safe  luxuries  of  modern 
life,  we  fail  to  understand  these  outcries  from  the  mar- 
tyrs' field. 

0  Lord,  the  God  of  vengeance — 
0  God,  the  God  of  vengeance,  shine  forth. 
Rise  up,  thou  Judge  of  the  earth  ; 
Recompense  a  reward  to  the  proud ! 

Let  only  such  times  return  upon  us,  as  have  been  of 
more  frequency  than  are  these  times  of  ease,  in  the 
history  of  the  Church,  and  we  should  quickly  know  how 
to  understand  a  Psalm  such  as  the  94th.  Christian 
men  and  women,  when  they  are  called,  in  like  manner, 
to  suffer,  are  required  to  pay  respect  to  a  rule  of 
suifering  which  is  many  centuries  later  than  the  time  of 
David,  but  which,  although  it  is  indeed  a  higher  rule, 
does  not  bring  under  blame  the  natural^  and  the  reli- 
gions emotions  that  were  proper  to  the  earlier  dispensa- 
tion. Tlie  Christian  Rule  which  enjoins  an  unresisting 
endurance  of  wrong,  and  a  Christ-like  patience,  would 
not  stand,  as  it  does,  in  hold  relief  upon  the  ground  of 
universal  morality,  if  it  were  opposed  only  to  those 
malign  and  revengeful  emotions  which  prom})t  tlie  per- 
secutor. The  Christian  martyr's  rule  is  declared  to  be 
an  exceptional  rule,  and  it  bespeaks  its  intention,  as  a 
testimony  sealed  in  blood,  in  behalf  of  the  hope  of  eternal 
life,  in  this  very  way,  that  it  takes  position  as  the  anti- 
thesis^ not  the  contradiction^  of  those  emotions  which, 
in  themselves,  and  apart  from  a  peculiar  purpose,  are  not 
only  natural^  but  are  virtuous  and  religious.    When  the 


HEBREW    POETRY.  155 

Cliristiaii  martyr  suffers  wroiio-  to  tlie  death — in  sileiiec, 
or  is  triunipliant  at  the  stake,  it  is  beccmse  he  is  looking 
for  "a  better  resurrection" — a  crown  of  imniortaUty  : 
it  is,  tJierefore^  and  it  is  on  tliis  newly-opened  ground, 
that  he  foregoes  rigJitful  hidignatio7i — that  he  represses 
the  instincts  of  resentment — that  he  abstains  from  impre- 
cations— that  he  will  not,  no,  even  in  the  utmost 
severity  of  anguish — on  the  rack  or  in  the  fire,  call 
upon  God — the  God  of  vengeance,  to  render  a  reward 
to  the  proud  and  the  cruel.  It  is  in  thought  of  the  life 
eternal,  and  of  the  judgment  to  come,  that  tl>e  Christian 
martyr  abstains  from  consoling  himself  in  the  prospect 
of  that  time  when  his  God  shall  bring  upon  his  enemies 
"  their  own  iniquity,  and  shall  cut  them  off  in  their  own 
wickedness," 

There  is  ai)t  to  be  much  misunderstanding  on  this 
ground,  and  a  consequent  confusion  of  thought,  on  the 
part  of  Christian  advocates,  has  thrown  an  advantage 
into  the  hands  of  those  whose  aim  it  has  been  to  impugn 
the  morality  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures.  The  subject, 
although  incidental  only  to  the  purport  of  this  volume, 
comes  just  now  in  our  j)ath,  and  it  may  claim  a  page. 
We  do  not  interfere,  at  all,  with  what  may  rightfully  be 
affirmed  concerning  the  j)7'edlctioe  import  of  the  impre- 
catoiy  Psalms;  for  that  is  a  subject  which  belongs  to 
the  theological  Biblical  Commentator.  In  these  pages 
we  are  regardhig  these  compositions  from  our  standing 
on  a  lower  level :  looked  at  from  this  i)oint  of  view,  then 
there  is  seen  to  be  shed  upon  the  field  of  Christian  mar- 
tyrdom, a  splendour — full  of  the  glories  of  that  up})er 
woild  in  the  triumphs  of  which  the  martyr  aspires  to 
take  his  part.  There  could  be  no  need  of  niartynloms 
for  bearing  a  testimony   against   dark,   foul,   inhuman, 


156  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

sanguinary  passions:  inasmuch  as  these  receive  tlieir 
proper  rebuke  in  tlie  conduct  of  the  virtuous,  and  the 
pious,  who  admit,  and  wlio  give  a  governed  expression 
to  rightful  and  rehgious  resentments,  even  to  tliose  emo- 
tions of  anger,  and  to  those  appeals  to  sovereign  justice, 
which  are  true  elements  of  human  nature,  and  which, 
in  fact,  have  in  them  so  irresistible  an  energy,  that  they 
overbear  all  contradiction,  unless  it  spring  from  motives 
of  another  order. 

The  slow  and  insensible  advancement  of  Christian 
motives  has  brought  on  a  transfusion  of  the  passive 
martyr  doctrine  into  the  ethics  of  common  life.  It  is 
thus  that  we  have  come  to  read  what  are  called  the 
Impi-ecatory  Psalms ; — and  then,  so  reading  them,  we 
are  perplexed  in  attempting  to  assimilate  them  to  the 
Christian  rule  of  non-resistance ;  Avhich  rule  in  truth, 
we  talk  of^  more  than  we  practise  it.  Human  nature, 
in  its  primary  constitution^  is  entirely  such  as  these 
very  Psalms  suppose  it  to  be ;  nor  is  this  structin-e  of 
the  emotions  to  be  any  way  reprobated ; — far  from  it 
— it  is  God's  own  work.  As  in  relation  to  the  vindic- 
tive passions,  so  in  relation  to  other  forces  of  human 
nature,  the  Gospel  comes  in — on  exceptive  occasions^  and 
supervenes  their  operation :  with  a  crown  imperishable 
in  view,  it  bridles  the  energies  of  this  present  life,  and 
asks  a  sacrifice  of  the  body  and  of  the  soul.* 

It  is  against  the  abounding  impiety,  cruelty,  wa-ong- 
fulness,  falseness,  craftiness  of  the  men  of  his  times, 
that  the  writer — or  writers — of  these  Psalms  makes 
his  passionate,  or  his  mournful  appeal  to  the  righteous- 
ness of  Heaven.     His  confidence   in   the  issue  of  the 

*  See  Note. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  157 

Divine  Governineiit  takes  its  spring,  and  receives  its 
force,  from  the  vivacity  of  his  own  emotions  of  disap- 
proval and  of  resentment  too : — the  one  energy,  that 
of  faith,  sustains  itself  upon  the  other  energy,  that  of 
natural  feeling :  remove  or  weaken  the  one,  and  then 
the  other  is  enfeebled,  in  proportion.  This  balancing 
of  the  one  force,  by  the  other  force,  must  have  place, 
unless  motives  derived  from  a  higher  level  were  brought 
in  to  take  the  place,  and  to  do  the  office  of  the  natural 
emotions  of  resentment.  For  a  substitution  of  this  kind 
the  time  was  not  yet  come : — long  centuries  were  yet 
to  run  themselves  out  before  this  revolution  was  to  be 
effected.  Nevertheless,  inasmuch  as  there  was  to  be 
nothing  in  tlie  later  economy  which  had  not  been  pre- 
dictively  shadowed  forth  in  the  older  economy,  there 
appears,  in  several  of  these  denunciatory  and  vengeance 
fraught  Psalms,  a  glimmer,  and  more  than  a  glimmer, 
of  that  light  of  life  whicli  was  at  length  to  bring  the 
servants  of  God  into  a  wholly  new  relationship  toward 
persecutors,  and  the  doers  of  wrong.  These  gleams  of 
light  from  a  brighter  world  give  to  several  of  the 
Psalms  something  of  the  poetic  tone  in  which  otherwise 
they  are  wanting. 

We  may  take  as  an  instance  of  this  anticipated 
Christian  sentiment,  an  expression  such  as  the  follow- 
ing,— the  meaning  of  which  scarcely  comes  to  the  sur- 
face in  our  English  version. 

For  {on  account  of)  tlie  oppression  of  the  poor :  for  the  outcry  of  the 

destitute, 
Now  will  I  arise,  saith  Jehovah : 

I  will  put  him  in  safety  from  him  that  would  entrap  hira: 
Thou  shalt  preserve  them  {take  them  out  from)  this  generation,  for  the 

age  to  come  {the  hiditn  futnrt). 


158  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

Or  more  distinctly  in  the  closing  verse  of  the  iVth 
Psfilni.  Notwithstanding  the  short  triumph  of  those 
Mho  Iiave  their  portion  in  tl)is  life,  the  servant  of  God 
is  comforted  in  pi'ospect  of  a  life  future. 

As  for  mc,  I  shall  behold  thy  face  in  righteousness: 
I  shall  be- content,  when  I  awake  in  thy  likeness. 

The  still  clearer  revelation  contained  in  the  16th 
Psalm  might  demand  distinct  notice  under  another  head. 
Of  the  same  import  are  these  verses  (of  Psalm  36). 

Tliey  {the  servants  of  God)  shall"  be  abundantly  satisfied 

With  the  fatness  of  thy  House  ; 

And  {for)  thou  shalt  make  them  drink 

Of  the  river  of  thy  pleasures. 

For  with  thee  is  the  fountain  of  life. 

In  thy  light  shall  we  see  light. 

To  take  account  of  those  of  the  Psalms  which  have 
most  distinctly  a  predictive  meaning,  and  Avhich  are 
propliecies  of  the  Messiah,  would  not  consist,  on  any 
ground,  with  the  intention  of  these  pages: — a  due  con- 
sideration of  them  involves  Avhat  is  proper  to  Biblical 
Criticism,  to  Biblical  Exposition,  and  also  to  Christian 
Theology.  Among  such  Psalms  are  to  be  reckoned, 
A\  ithout  doubt,  the  second,  the  sixteenth,  the  twenty- 
second,  the  forty-fifth,  the  seventy-second,  and  the  hun- 
dred and  tenth. 

The  class  which  is  the  most  numerous  comprises 
thirty- five,  or,  it  may  be,  forty  Psalms.*     Of  this  num- 

*  The  Psalms  referred  to  are  these— 6,  16,  17,  23,  25,  26,  27,  28, 
30,  31,  32,  38,  39,  40,  42,  43,  51,  57,  61,  63,  69,  70,  71,  84,  88,  102, 
103,  116,  119,  130,  131,  138,  141,  142,  143. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  159 

bcr  tlicso  niiiilit  be  taken  as  samples  of  tlie  rest ;  name- 
ly, the  forty-seeond  Psalm,  the  sixty-third,  and  the 
eighty-fourth. 

Several  of  these  odes  bring  to  view  what  have  already 
been  named  as  eharacteristic  elements  of  the  other 
classes;  especially  that  of  the  often-recurrent  denuncia- 
tion of  the  wickedness  of  the  wicked — the  persecutor, 
and  the  impious  man — who  is  the  enemy  of  God,  and 
of  His  faithful  servants,  as  well  as  the  despoiler  of  the 
helpless,  the  widow,  and  the  fatherless.  But  passages 
of  this  order  occupy  a  less  conspicuous  place  in  the 
Psalms  now  referred  to,  and  are  incidental  to  the  prin- 
cipal intention  of  them.  This  principal  intention  is — 
whatever  relates  to  individual  piety,  and  the  experi- 
ences of  the  spiritual  life.  In  these  devotional  compo- 
sitions the  soul,  with  its  own  spiritual  welf^ire  imme- 
diately in  view — its  intimate  emotions  of  love,  trust, 
hope,  humiliation,  sorrow,  joy — spreads  itself  out,  as 
toward  God,  communion  with  whom,  on  terms  of  filial 
aifection,  is,  in  its  esteem,  a  blessedness  rather  to  be 
chosen  than  all  the  goods  of  the  present  life — a  greater 
treasure  is  it  than  "  thousands  of  gold  and  silver."  The 
key  to  these  compositions  is  this  settled  preference  of  the 
welfare,  the  health,  of  the  soul,  as  compared  with  any 
Avorldly  and  sensual  enjoyments.  It  is  this  fixed  purpose 
of  the  heart  which  determines  the  conduct ;  it  is  this 
which  sheds  a  glow  upon  a  lot  of  destitution,  bodily 
suffering,  or  persecution : — it  is  this^  and  not  any 
expanded,  or  distinctly  uttered  hope  of  immortality, 
which  sustains  the  wounded  spirit,  imparting  strength 
and  courage  to  the  broken  in  heart.  And  it  is  this 
preference  which  gives  its  charm  to  the  public  worship 
of  God.    AVitness  the  eighty-fourth  Psalm,  a  better  ver- 


160  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

sion  of  which  than  tliat  of  the  English  Bible  is  much  to 
be  desired. 

The  prevailing  feeling — the  ruling  sentiment  of  these 
Psalms  may  be  shown  in  sample,  in  passages  such  as  this. 

Many  say — who  will  show  us  good  ? 

Lord,  lift  thou  up  the  light  of  thy  countenance  upon  us. 

Thou  hast  put  gladness  in  my  heart, 

More  than  in  the  time  their  corn  and  their  wine  increased. 

I  will  botli  lay  me  down  in  peace  and  sleep ; 

For  thou,  Lord,  only  makest  me  to  dwell  in  safety. 

Or  in  the  impassioned  utterances  of  the  forty-second, 
or,  still  more  strikingly  so,  in  the  sixty-tliird  Psalm. 

0  God,  thou  art  my  God ;  early  will  I  seek  thee. 

These  two  odes,  by  the  beauty  and  fitness  of  the 
imagery,  and  the  warmth  and  tenderness  of  the  emo- 
tions expressed  in  them,  stand  as  exceptive  instances  to 
the  rule  that  Poetry^  throughout  the  Psalms,  is  inverse- 
ly as  the  Piety  to  which  they  give  utterance :  or  we 
should  say — the  piety  of  individual  feeliny.  It  is 
otherwise  with  what  may  be  called  congregational,  or 
collective  piety  ;  for  the  anthems  already  s})oken  of  are 
many  of  them  in  the  highest  sense  poetical. 

There  is  another  rule  which  presents  itself,  in  looking 
to  the  verbal  struchire  of  these  devotional  Psalms — 
those  especially  which  have  the  most  decisively  an  indi- 
vidual meaning; — it  is  this — That  the  composition  sub- 
mits itself,  in  a  more  formal  manner  than  in  other 
instances,  to  metrical  and  arbitrary  conditions — as  to 
apposition  of  verses,  in  twos,  in  threes ;  and  also,  by 
obeying  the  rule  of  alliteration.     Take  the  119th  Psalm 


HEBREW    rOETKY.  161 

as  an  instance.  In  every  age  has  this  Psahn  met  the 
requirements  of  individual  piety  :  it  has  been  a  chosen 
portion  of  Scripture,  to  spiritually  minded  persons. 
Never  wearied  by  its  repetitions,  or  its  apparent  redun- 
dancies, each  verse  has  given  direction  anew  to  pious 
meditation  —  each  verse  has  supplied  its  aliment  of 
devout  feeling.  Fraught  throughout  with  religious 
feeling,  and  wanting,  almost  absolutely,  in  Poetry^  it 
stands  before  us  as  a  sample  of  conformity  to  metrical 
limitations.'^  In  the  strictest  sense  this  composition  is 
conditioned ;  nevertheless,  in  the  highest  sense  is  it  an 
utterance  of  the  spiritual  life ;  and  in  thus  finding  these 
seemingly  opposed  elements  intimately  commingled,  as 
they  are,  throughout  this  Psalm,  a  lesson  full  of  mean- 
ing is  silently  conveyed  to  those  who  will  receive  it — 
that  the  conveyance  of  the  things  of  God  to  the  human 
spirit  is  in  no  way  damaged  or  impeded,  much  less  is  it 
deflected  or  vitiated^  by  its  subjugation  to  those  modes 
of  utterance  which  most  of  all  bespeak  their  adaptation 
to  the  infirmity  and  the  childlike  capacity  of  the  reci- 
pient. 

This  same  119th  Psalm  opens  also  a  subject  which 
might  well  engage  careful  consideration.  Some  of  the 
Psalms  just  above  referred  to  contain  allusions,  not 
obscure,  to  that. better  world— that  "  more  enduring 
substance'' — that  "inheritance  unfailing,"  upon  whi(;h 
the  pious  in  all  times  have  kept  the  eye  of  faith  steadily 
fixed.  But  now  in  all  the  176  couplets  of  this  Psalm 
there  are  not  more  than  two  or  three  phrases,  and  these 
of  ambiguous  meaning,  which  can  be  understood  as 
having  reference  to  the  future  life,  and  its  blessedness; 

*  See  Note. 


162  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

and  SO  it  is  in  other  Psalms  of  this  same  class.  One 
sucli  expression,  susceptible  of  an  extended  meaning, 
there  is  in  the  23d  Psalm  :  none  in  the  25th,  nor  in  the 
30th,  where  it  might  naturally  be  looked  for,  nor  in  the 
32d,  the  42d,  the  63d,  the  84th,  the  103d ;  and  these  are 
the  Psalms  which  might  be  singled  out  from  the  class 
they  belong  to,  as  samples  of  the  deepest  utterings,  the 
most  hitense  yearnings,  of  individual  devotion — the 
loving  communion  of  the  soul  with  God.  Can  any 
explanation  be  given  of  this  apparent  defectiveness,  in 
the  instances  adduced,  which  seem  to  demand  the  very 
element  that  is  7iot  found  in  them  ? 

We  are  not  called  to  seek  for  an  explication  of  this 
difficulty  among  groundless  conjectures  concerning  what 
might  be  the  Divine  intention,  in  thus  holding  back 
from  these  devotional  odes  the  element  which  might 
seem  the  most  eminently  proper  to  find  a  place  among 
them :  what  we  have  before  us  is  the  incontestable  fact, 
that  these  Psalms  —  and  these  by  preference  —  have 
actually  fed  the  piety  of  the  pious — have  sufficed  for 
giving  utterance  to  the  deepest  and  most  animated  reli- 
gious emotions,  throughout  all  time,  since  their  first 
pi'omulgation ;  and  it  has  been  as  much  so  since  the 
time  of  the  Christian  announcement  of  immortality,  as 
before  it;  we  might  say,  much  more  so.  During  all 
these  ages,  these  many  generations  of  men  who  have 
sought  and  found  their  happiness  in  communion  with 
God,  there  has  been  in  use,  by  the  Divine  appointment^ 
a  liturgy  of  the  individual  spiritual  life^  which,  absti- 
nent of  the  excitements  of  immortal  hope — unmindful 
of,  almost,  as  if  ignorant  of,  the  bright  future,  takes  its 
circuit,  and  finds  its  occasions,  in  and  among  the  sad 
and  changeful  and  transient  experiences  of  the  jiresent 


HEBREW    POETRY.  163 

life.  Here  is  before  us  a  daily  ritual  of  fervent,  im- 
passioned devotion,  wliicli,  far  from  being  of  an  ab- 
stracted or  mystical  sort,  is  acutely  sensitive  towards  all 
tilings  of  the  passing  moment.  This  metrical  service 
of  daily  prayer,  praise,  intercession,  trust,  hope,  con- 
trition, revolves  within  the  circle  of  the  every-day 
pains,  fears,  and  solaces,  of  the  religious  man's  earthly 
pilgrimage.  Pilgrimage  it  is,  for  the  devout  man  calls 
himself  "  a  stranger,  a  sojourner  on  earth  ;"  and  yet 
the  land  whereunto  he  is  tending  does  not  in  any  such 
manner  fill  a  place  in  his  thoughts,  as  that  it  should  find 
a  i^lace  in  the  language  of  his  devotions! 

What  is  the  inference  that  is  properly  derivable  fi-om 
these  facts  ?  Is  it  not  this,  that  the  training  or  disci- 
plme  of  the  soul  in  the  spiritual  life — the  forming  and 
the  strengthening  of  those  habits  of  trust,  confidence, 
love,  penitence,  which  are  the  preparations  of  the  soul 
for  its  futurity  in  a  brighter  world — demands  a  con- 
centration of  the  affections  upon  the  Infinite  Excellence 
— undisturbed  by  objects  of  another  order  ?  If  this  be 
a  proper  conclusion,  then  we  find  m  it  a  correspondent 
principle  in  the  abstinence,  throughout  the  Christian 
Scriptures,  of  descriptive  exhibitions  of  the  "  inherit- 
ance "  that  is  promised.  The  eternal  life  is  indeed 
authentically  propounded  ;  but  the  promise  is  not  opened 
out  in  any  such  manner  as  shall  make  meditation  upon  it 
easy.  Pious  earnestness  presses  forward  on  a  path  that 
is  well  assured  ;  but  on  this  path  the  imagination  is  not 
invited  to  follow.  The  same  purpose  here  again  pre- 
sents itself  to  notice — a  purpose  of  culture^  not  of 
excitement. 

There  can  be  little  risk  of  error  in  afiirming  that  the 
Kew  Testament  itself  furnishes  no  liturgy  of  devotion. 


164  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

for  this  reason  that  a  liturgy,  divinely  originated,  had 
already  been  granted  to  the  universal  Church  ;  and  it 
Mas  such  in  its  subjects,  and  in  its  tone,  and  in  its  modes 
of  expression,  as  fully  to  satisfy  its  destined  purposes. 
Devout  spirits,  from  age  to  age  of  these  later  times, 
since  "light  and  immortality  were  brought  to  light," 
have  known  how  to  blend  with  the  liturgy  of  David  the 
promises  of  Christ:  these  latter  distinguished  from 
those  long  before  granted  to  Patriarchs  and  Prophets, 
more  by  their  authoritative  style,  and  their  explicit 
brevity,  than  by  any  amplifications  which  might  satisfy 
religious  curiosity. 


CHAPTER  X. 

SOLOMOX,  AND  THE  SONG  OF  SONGS. 

In  search,  as  Ave  now  are,  of  the  Poetry  of  the 
Hebrew  writings,  and  of  that  only,  two  inferences  are 
miquestionable — namely,  first,  that  on  this  ground  the 
"  Song  of  Songs  "  possesses  a  very  peculiar  claim  to 
be  spoken  of;  and  secondly,  that,  inasmuch  as  the 
alleged  religious  or  s})iritual  meaning  of  these  beautiful 
idyls  must  be  made  to  rest  upon  considerations  quite 
foreign  to  any  indications  of  such  a  meaning,  found  in 
themselves,  we  might  abstain  from  taking  any  note  of 
this — their  superinduced  spiritual  significance.  AVe 
might  stand  excused  from  asking  any  questions  thereto 
relating ;  nor  need  we  pei-plex  ourselves  with  difficul- 
ties therewith  connected  ;  and  might  think  ourselves 
free  to  abstain  from  any  expression  of  opinion  upon  a 
question  which  belongs  so  entirely  to  the  theological 
expositor.  Yet,  although  it  be  so,  there  may  be  reasons 
sufficient  for  adverting  to  this  very  instance -quite 
peculiar  as  it  is,  and  illustrative  as  it  is,  of  what  was 
affirmed  at  the  outset,  concerning  the  relation  of  the 
Divine  element  toward  the  human  element  in  the  cano- 
nical Scriptures. 

Just  now  we  are  proposing  to  look  at  these  eclogues 
as  remarkable  sam}>les  of  the  poetry  of  the  Hebrews,  in 
this  class  ; — and  in  no  other  light. 

By  themselves  they  deserve  to  be  considered  on  the 


166  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


ground  of  their  striking  nnlikoncss  to  tlie  mass  of  the 
Hebrew  literature  ; — one  other  book  of  the  Canon — tlie 
book  of  Esther,  stands  on  the  same  ground  of  negative 
theistic  import.  In  neither  of  these  compositions  does 
the  Divine  Name  so  much  as  once  occur  :  in  neither  of 
them  does  there  occur  a  single  religious  or  spiritual 
sentiment  of  any  kind  : — the  one — so  far  as  appears  on 
the  surface  of  it — is  as  purely  amatory,  as  the  other  is 
purely  national — Jewish — political.  Yet  this  absence 
of  the  religious  element  is  not  the  only,  nor,  indeed,  is 
it  the  lyrinQipal  distinction  which  sets  the  Canticles  in 
contrast  with  the  other  constituents  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment. These  all,  as  we  have  already  said  (Chapter 
II.)  exhibit  a  religious  intention,  which  is  so  constant, 
and  is  of  such  force,  as  to  prevail  over  what  might  have 
been  the  impulses  of  the  individual  writer's  genius. 
Poet  as  he  may  be  by  constitution  of  mind,  and  using 
freely  for  his  purpose  the  materials  and  the  symbols  of 
poetry,  yet  he  is  never  the  poet-artist : — he  is  never 
found  to  be  devising  and  executing,  in  the  best  manner, 
a  work  of  art : — he  is  never  the  workman  who  has  in 
view  the  tastes,  wishes,  and  commands,  of  those  for 
whom  he  writes. 

It  is  on  this  ground,  as  much  as  upon  that  of  the 
avoidance  of  religious  expressions,  or  of  moral  senti- 
ments, that  the  "  Song  of  Songs"  stands  quite  alone 
in  the  "goodly  fellowship  of  the  prophets."  These 
Canticles  are  compositions,  apparently  on  a  level  with 
compositions  the  purpose  of  which  is  only  that  of  pro- 
viding delectation  for  the  reader.  The  author  of  the 
Canticles  has  done,  in  his  way,  what  Theocritus  and 
Ilafiz  have  done — each  in  his  way.  This  is  what 
must  be   said — reading  what  we  read,  ai)art   from   an 


IIEBKEW    POETRY.  167 


hypothesis  which  sustains  itself  altogether  on  other 
grounds. 

TIius  regarded,  and  thus  brought  forward  to  stand  in 
a  liglit  of  contrast  with  the  mass  of  the  Hebrew  Scrip- 
tures, these  delicious  comjjositions  carry  us  back,  in 
imagination,  to,  or  toicards^  that  j)rinu\ival  hour  of 
human  history,  a  tradition  of  which  is  (as  Ave  have  said) 
the  very  germ,  or  inner  reasoii  of  all  poetry.  Tlie 
author — and  we  need  not  doubt  it — Solomon — tlie  mo- 
narch of  an  era  of  peace,  and  of  plenary  terrestrial  good, 
breaks  away,  as  if  from  underneath  the  thick  clouds  and 
storms  of  centuries  past : — he  leaves  behind  him  even 
the  tranquil  patriarchal  ages : — he  draws  near  to  that 
first  garden  of  love,  and  of  flowers,  and  of  singing-birds, 
and  of  all  sensuous  delights — even  to  the  paradise  of 
innocence : — he  looks  along  the  flowery  alleys  of  that 
garden  : — he  finds  his  subject  there,  and  his  images ; 
and  yet  not  entirely  so  ;  for  he  takes  up  the  paradisaical 
elements  in  })art;  and  with  these  he  mingles  elements 
of  another  order.  Himself  lord  of  a  palace,  and  yet 
alive  to  the  better  delights,  and  the  simple  conditions  of 
rural  life,  he  is  fain  to  bring  love  and  flowery  fields  into 
unison  with  luxurious  habits.  In  song,  this  may  be 
done :  in  reality,  never.  The  Canticle  is  therefore  a 
poem :  it  is  an  artistic  work,  because  it  brings  into 
combination  those  ingredients  of  an  imaginary  felicity 
for  which  earth  has  no  place. 

Yet  is  this  poem  quite  true  to  nature,  if  only  man 
were  innocent,  and  if  woman  were  loving  only,  and  lovely 
always.  The  truthfulness  of  the  work  is  found  in  that 
primaeval  alliance  of  love  and  nature — of  love  and  rural 
life — which  imparts  to  the  warmest  of  emotions  its  sim- 
plicity and  its  iturity— its  healthfidness^  and  to  the  rural 


168  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

taste,  its  animation  and  its  vividness  of  enjoyment. 
Upon  this  association  human  nature  was  at  the  first  con- 
structed;  and  toward  it  will  human  nature  ever  be 
tending.  Love,  and  fields,  and  flowers,  and  the  trim 
gi-aces  of  the  garden,  and  the  free  charms  of  the  open 
country,  and  the  breathing  hillside,  and  the  sparkling 
stream,  are — what  they  severally  may  be — as  ingredi- 
ents of  human  felicity,  when  they  are  found  together. 
How  far  they  may  go  toward  reahzing  earthly  well-being 
has  been  known  to  many  who  have  been  the  contented 
dwellers  beneath  a  thatched  roof,  and  whose  paradise 
was  a  rood  or  two  of  land,  hedged  off  from  a  cornfield 
or  meadow. 

If  a  half-dozen  heedlessly  rendered  passages  of  our 
English  version  were  amended,  as  easily  they  might  be, 
then  the  Canticle  would  well  consist,  throughout,  with 
the  purest  utterances  of  conjugal  fondness,  Happy 
would  any  people  be  among  whom  there  was  an  abound- 
ing of  that  conjugal  fondness  which  might  tJais  express 
itself.  A  social  condition  of  this  kind  is — or  it  would 
be — at  once  the  opposite  of  licentiousness,  and  its  exclu- 
sion, and  its  proper  remedy;  yet  it  must  rest  upon 
sentiments  and  usages  far  less  factitious  than  are  those 
of  modern  European  city  life :  marriage,  entered  upon 
early  enough  to  secure  for  itself  the  bloom  of  the  affec- 
tions, on  both  sides  ;  and  so  early  as  to  have  precluded 
the  withering  and  the  weltering  of  loving  hearts  that 
once  were  warm,  pure,  and  capable  of  an  entire  abnega- 
tion of  the  individual  selfism.  Where,  and  when,  shall 
the  social  system  return  upon  its  path,  and  become 
healthful,  and  bright,  with  warm  emotions,  and  content 
with  the  modest  sufficiency  of  rural  life !  Who  would 
not  willingly  accept  for  himself  the  lot  of  the  lover- 


HEBREW    POETRY.  169 

luisband — first  out  in  the  moist  morning  of  May,  in 
this  climate  of  ours,  ami  who  thus  calls  his  love — his 
wife  abroad — 

Rise  up,  my  love,  my  fair  one,  and  come  away ; 

For  lo,  the  winter  is  past, 

The  rain  is  over — is  gone ; 

The  flowers  appear  on  the  earth, 

The  time  of  tlie  singing  is  come. 

And  the  voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard  in  our  land ; 

The  fig-tree  hath  ripened  her  green  figs ; 

And  the  vines — the  tender  grape — give  fragrance. 

Arise,  my  love,  ray  fair  one,  and  come  away  ! 

Conjugal  fondness,  if  true-hearted,  will  not  make  it  a 
condition  of  earthly  happiness  that  it  should  be  able  to 
take  its  leisure  in  gardens  of  oriental  fragrance  ;  but  will 
joyfully  accept  very  much  less  than  this  : — 

A  garden  shut  in — my  sister — my  spouse  ; 

A  spring  shut  up — a  fountain  sealed. 

Thy  plants — an  orchard  of  pomegranates,  with  pleasant  fruits; 

Camphire,  with  spikenard — spikenard  and  saffron  ; 

Calamus  and  cinnamon,  with  all  trees  of  frankincense; 

Myrrh  and  aloes,  with  all  cliief  spices : 

A  fountain — gardens — a  well  of  living  waters, 

And  streams  from  liCbanon. 

Albeit  we,  of  a  latitude  so  high,  dare  not  go  on,  and 
say,  in  our  early  spring — 

Awake,  0  north  wind  ;  and  come,  thou  south  ; 

Blow  upon  my  garden. 

The  spices  thereof  to  flow  out. 

But  the  later  summer  lime  has  come  when  the  loving 
wife  takes  up  the  invitation  : — 

8 


170  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


Let  my  beloved  come  into  his  garden, 
And  eat  his  pleasant  fruits. 

And  lie  replies  : — 

I  am  come  into  my  garden,  my  sister — spouse : 
I  have  gathered  my  myrrh  with  my  spice; 
T  (will)  eat  my  honeycomb  with  my  honey ; 
I  {ivill)  drink  my  wine  with  ray  milk. 

Although  the  allusions  in  these  poems  are  to  rural 
scenes,  and  also  to  the  incidents  of  shepherd-life,  there 
is  nothing — there  is  not  a  taint  of  rusticity  ; — there  is 
no  coarseness — nothing  of  the  homeliness  of  the  Sicilian 
cattle-keepers* — nothing  of  the  factitiousness,  the  affec- 
tation, of  Virgil's  Eclogues.  The  persons  speak  at  the 
impulse  of  real  and  passionate  emotions ;  but,  in  the 
utterance  of  these  genuine  and  fond  affections,  there  is 
always  elegance,  and  there  are  the  ornate  habitudes  of 
an  advanced  oriental  civilization.  There  is  also  the 
genuine  and  inimitable  oriental  self-possession^  and  the 
consciousness  of  personal  dignity ;  in  these  love- 
dialogues,  and  in  these  fond  soliloquies,  there  is  every- 
thing that  may  be  permitted  to  amorous  endearment ; 
yet  there  is  no  taint  of  licentiousness : — these  are  the 
loves  of  the  pure  in  heart.  An  indication  at  once  of 
simplicity  and  of  the  refinement  of  tastes,  and  of  purity 
of  temperament  in  both  lovers,  appears  at  every  turn  of 
this  abrupt  composition  :  for  ever  and  again  is  there  the 
commingling  of  the  language  of  tender  fondness  with 
the  sense  of  the  beauty  and  sweetness  of  nature — the 
field)    the    vineyard,    the     garden,    the    flowers,    the 

*  See  Note. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  171 

perfumes,  the  fruits,  are  not  out  of  sight,  from  hour 
to  hour,  of  these  pastimes  of  love. 

My  beloved  is  gone  down  into  his  garden, 

To  the  beds  of  spices. 

To  feed*  in  the  gardens,  and  to  gather  lilies. 

I  am  my  beloved's,  and  my  beloved  is  mine : 

He  feedeth  among  the  lihes. 

Come,  my  beloved,  let  us  go  forth  into  the  field, 

Let  us  lodge  in  the  hamlets. 

Let  us  get  up  early  to  the  vineyards ; 

Let  us  see  if  the  vines  flourish, 

Whether  the  tender  grape  appear,  and  the  pomegranates  bud  forth. 

There  will  I  give  thee  my  loves. 

The  mandrakes  give  a  smell. 

And  at  our  gates  all  kinds  of  pleasant  (fruits)  new  and  old, 

I  have  laid  up  for  thee,  0  my  beloved. 

Fervid  fondness,  tenderness,  and  elegance — and  it  is 
an  elegance  which  is  peculiarly  oriental,  and  which  the 
western  races  with  their  refinements  have  never  realized 
— attach  to,  and  are  characteristic  of,  these  Canticles ; 
and  the  spirit  of  them  brings  to  view,  at  every  pause,  at 
every  sti'ophe,  whatever  is  the  most  bright  and  graceful 
in  nature  ;  and  it  is  in  this  same  style  that  the  enamoured 
one  ends  her  plaints;  for  this  is  the  last  challenge  of  her 
love : — 

Make  haste,  my  beloved,  and  be  thou  like  to  a  roe, 
Or  to  a  young  hart  upon  the  mountain  of  spices. 

Tlie  reason  is  not  obvious  wliy  tlicre  should  be  no 
allusion,  of  any  sort,  in  tliese  pastorals — these  songs  of 

*  Not,  to  cat;  but^  -Jt^aivciv  iv  Kftnois, 


172  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

love,  to  iiuisic — vocal,  or  instrumental.  Music  else- 
where lias  ever  clone  its  part  in  soothing,  and  in  refining 
emotions  of  this  order;  Avhy,  then,  is  it  absent  from 
these  eclogues?  Not  because  music  had  not,  in  that 
age,  and  long  before,  taken  its  place — and  a  chief  place 
— among  those  means  of  enjoyment  which  exalt  human 
nature.  This  is  abundantly  certain,  apart  from  the 
explicit  affirmation  of  the  royal  preacher,  "  I  gat  me 
men-singers,  and  women-singers,  and  the  delights  of  the 
sons  of  men — musical  instruments,  and  that  of  all  sorts.'' 
Why,  then,  is  there  not  heard  in  these  songs  the  soft 
breathings  of  the  flute,  or  the  chimes  of  the  lyre  or 
harp,  so  proper  to  the  fragrant  bowers  where  the  royal 
bridegroom,  and  his  love,  spend  their  summer  hours? 
Unless  it  should  appear  that  the  passage  just  now  cited 
from  the  book  of  Ecclesiastes  carries  with  it  the  weight 
of  historical  authority  to  the  contrary,*  it  might  be 
conjectured  that,  in  the  age  of  David  and  Solomon,  and 
perhaps  mitil  a  late  period  of  the  Israelitish  people, 
music,  instrumental  and  vocal,  still  observant  of  its 
primaeval  mood,  and  of  its  heavenly  origin,  reserved  its 
powers,  in  trust,  for  religious  purposes,  and  that  to  bring 
it  into  the  service  of  emotions  of  a  lower  order  would 
have  been  deemed  a  sacrilege,  and  would  grievously 
have  offended  the  sense  of  religious  propriety.  Might 
it  not  be  so  at  a  time  when  the  dance  was  a  consecrated 
pleasure,  and  when,  on  the  most  solemn  occasions, 
persons  of  the  highest  rank,  leaping  and  moving  at  the 
bidding  of  the  cymbal  and  pipe  (and  probably  the  fiddle) 
took  their  part  in  these  devout  festivities  ?  Oriental 
were  these  outbreakings  of  animated  religious  feeling; 

*  See  Note. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  173 

and  they  Avore  ante-Christian  too;  for  Cliristianity,  in 
setting  tlie  rehgions  emotions  at  a  far  loftii;r  piteh,  and 
in  conneeting  all  such  emotions  Avith  thoughts  of  an 
awful  futurity,  and  in  combining  them  with  the  dread 
iiiliuitude  of  the  unseen  world,  has  imposed  upon  sacred 
music  a  character  wliich  it  had  not  at  the  first;  and 
which  did  not  belong  to  it  till  some  while  after  the  age 
when  the  martyr  Church,  with  its  torrents  of  faithful 
blood,  and  its  tortures,  and  its  desolations,  had  come  in 
to  shed  a  sombre  glory  even  upon  the  brightest  [)rospects 
of  immortality :  thenceforward  Church-music,  wholly 
changed  in  its  tones,  was  the  music  of  low  plaintive 
A^oices,  and  of  the  Cecilian  organ.  Not  such  was  it  in 
those  remote  times  when  the  very  law  and  reason  of 
piety  rested  upon,  or  allied  itself  with,  conceptions  of 
earthly  well-being;  in  that  age  the  gayest  music  was 
held  to  be  not  the  less  sacred^  because  it  was  gay  ; — 
but,  then,  the  consequence  was  this — that  the  music 
of  soft  delights  was  a  dedicated  pleasure,  and  was  not 
to  be  held  at  the  service  of  human  loves. 

Conjectures,  more  or  less  probable,  are  all  that  we  can 
bring  to  bear  upon  this  endeavour  to  show  Avhy  music 
takes  no  part  in  these  songs  of  love.  Yet  something 
more  than  conjecture  Ave  seem  to  need  Avhen  Ave  are 
endeavouring  to  find  a  probable  reason  for  the  more 
perplexing  absence,  throughout  these  poems,  of  the 
Divine  Name,  and  of  a  religious  sentiment  of  any  kind. 
An  explanation  of  the  problem  is  not  supplied  by  the 
supposition  that  these  songs  of  love  belong  to  the  dark 
period  of  Solomon's  religious  apostacy,  or  of  his  guilty 
conii)licity  in  the  polytheism  of  his  wives ;  for  in  that 
case  there  would  not  have  failed  to  appear — at  some 
turn  of  passion — a   sudden,  incidental    allusion    to  the 


17-i  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

denioii  worships  of  the  Ilarem: — there  would  have 
been  visible*  some  foul  slaiu  of  lascivious  rites.  Xo 
mark,  no  blot  of  this  kind  anywhere  blemishes  the 
natural  brightness  of  this  poetry  ;  a  blemish  of  this  sort 
would,  undoubtedly,  have  sufficed  for  excluding  the 
Canticle  from  the  Hebrew  Canon. 

Abstaining,  as  we  do,  from  any  argument  which 
must  be  properly  theological  and  expository,  we  now 
accept  the  (almost)  unanimous  belief  of  the  Jewish 
doctors,  and  the  (almost)  unanimous  concurrence 
therein  of  the  Christian  Church,  concerning  the  Can- 
ticle ;  on  the  ground  of  which  belief  it  was  admitted 
into  the  canon  of  Scripture,  and  maintains  its  place 
tliere — that  it  is  mythical  throughout ;  and  has  been 
divinely  given  to  illustrate,  or  to  teach,  that  whicli  St. 
Paul  affirms  to  be  a  ti'uth,  and  "  a  great  mystery." 
This  granted,  then  it  would  follow  that  the  purely  mys- 
tical import  of  this  sacred  poem  would  be  interfered 
with — would  be  quite  damaged  and  broken  up — by 
the  introduction  of  any  of  those  expressions  of  piety 
which  are  proper  to  the  religious  man,  and  the  religious 
woman — representatives  as  these  are  of  piety — in  an 
imsymbolical  sense.  Expressions  of  this  order,  what- 
ever they  might  mean,  have  already  been  embraced 
within  the  range  of  the  mythical  import  of  the  Poem. 
On  the  part  of  the  celestial  Bridegroom,  his  regard 
toward  his  mystic  bride  comprehends  all  elements  of 
religion,  as  proceeding  from  tlie  divine  toward  the 
human  nature  ;  and,  on  the  part  of  the  mystic  bride,  her 
fond  love  to  her  Lord  contains,  or  conveys,  all  elements 
of  human  devotion — adoration,  praise,  prayer,  and 
yearning  affection.  There  is  nothing  proper  to  fervent 
piety  remaining  as  a  residue  that  has  not  been  included 


HEBREW    POETRY.  175 

in  these  mythic  utterances.  If  on  this  ground — liyi)o- 
thetic  as  it  is — we  touch  tlie  truth  of  the  i)rol)lein, 
then  it  is  manifest  that  tlie  hmguage  of  nmni/t/tlc  pletif 
wouhl  be  utterly  out  of  place,  would  be  out  of  harmony, 
in  this  Canticle.  Might  not  an  argument  in  favour  of 
the  canonicity,  and  of  the  rehgious  intention  of  this 
Poem  be  warrantably  made  to  rest  upon  this  very  cir- 
cumstance of  the  absence,  throughout  it,  of  those  reli- 
gious expressions,  the  want  of  which  has  seemed  to 
contravene  the  general  belief  of  the  Church  concerning 
it? 

Accepted,  then,  as  a  portion  of  inspired  Scripture, 
and  regarded  as  fraught  throughout  with  a  religious 
meaning — mystically  conveyed — then  does  the  "  Song 
of  Songs  "  occupy  the  very  front  place  among  all  other 
instances  which  might  be  adduced  in  exemplitication  of 
that  coexistence  of  the  divine  and  of  the  human  ele- 
ments in  Scripture,  an  understanding  of  which  is  always 
important, — and  is,  at  this  moment,  peculiarly  needed. 

In  this  instance — signal  beyond  comparison  as  it  is 
— the  Divine  element  subsists  at  a  remote  depth  below 
the  surface ;  which  surface  might  be  passed  over  and 
trodden,  by  a  thousand  of  the  wayfarers  of  literature, 
with  an  utter  unconsciousness  of  the  wealth  hidden 
beneath.  Like  is  this  divine  riches  to  the  "treasure 
hidden  in  a  field,"  concerning  which  an  intimation  must 
first  be  granted  to  any  one  who,  for  the  sake  of  it — if 
he  knew  it — would  willingly  sell  all  that  he  hath  of  tliis 
world's  goods.  This  Poem,  with  its  bright  images  of 
earthly  delights — with  its  em})assioiied  utterances  of 
human  fondness — its  abandonment  of  soul,  and  its 
absorption  of  heart,  and  its  emphasis  of  human  love,  if 
it  had  come  down  to  modern  times  a})art  from  all  con- 


176  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


nection  with  a  body  of  religious  writings,  would  so 
liave  been  read  and  admired,  throughout  all  time ;  nor 
would  ever  a  surmise  of  any  deeper  i)urpose  have  sug- 
gested itself  to  the  modern  European  reader.  Such  an 
interpretation — let  us  grant  it — might  have  been  caught 
at  by  oriental  dervishes  ; — for  a  similar  use  is  made  by 
them,  in  the  East,  of  similar  materials.  The  inference 
duly  derivable  from  an  instance  so  remarkable  should 
be  carefully  noted,  and  it  is  of  this  sort : — 

That  we  ought  not  to  open  the  Bible  with  any  pre- 
determined notions,  as  to  those  conditions  within  which 
the  divine  element,  in  Scripture,  must  be  expected  to 
confine  itself,  in  its  connection  with  the  human  element, 
throu2:h  which  it  convevs  itself.  On  this  unknown 
ground  we  must  not  theorise ;  we  must  not  speculate 
a  priori ;  for  when  we  do  this,  and  as  often,  and  as  fiir, 
as  we  do  it,  Ave  surround  ourselves  with  occasions  of 
offence,  and  we  provide  the  materials  of  endless  doubts 
and  perplexities.  On  this  ground  Ave  have  everything 
to  learn  : — we  have  nothing  to  stipulate  ;  we  must  pos- 
tulate nothing  ;  Ave  must  quite  abstain  from  the  perilous 
endeavour  to  circumscribe  the  area  Avithin  the  limit  of 
Avhich,  and  not  beyond  it,  the  Divine  Wisdom  shall 
take  its  course  in  conveying  to  men  the  mysteries  of 
the  spiritual  economy. 

It  may  be  well  to  look  distinctly  at  the  instance  now 
before  us,  and  to  gather  from  it  in  full  the  lesson  Avhich 
it  suggests.  The  theological  expositor,  Avhether  of  the 
ancient  JcAvish  Cliurch,  or  of  the  early  Christian  church, 
or  of  the  modern  Church,  has  accepted  the  "  Song  of 
Songs ''  as  a  divinely-inspired  myth,  conveying  the 
deepest  and  most  sacred  elements  of  the  spiritual 
economy  in  the  terms,  and  under  the  forms,  of  instinc- 


HEBKEW    POETRY.  177 

tivc  liuinan  feeling  and  passion.  The  exterior  nieiliiiiii 
of  tliis  conveyance  is  so  entire,  so  absolute,  that,  until 
the  occult  meaning  of  the  poem  has  been  suggesled,  or 
is  declared  on  sufficient  cmthority^  no  reader  would 
surmise  it  to  be  there.  No  religious  person  would  have 
conjectured  as  probable,  the  insertion  of  tJils  poem 
■svithin  the  compass  of  the  inspired  Scriptures.  But  it 
is  there^  and  not  only  is  it  there,  but  it  has,  if  so  Ave 
might  speak,  justified  its  presence  in  the  canon  by  the 
undoubtedly  religious  purposes  it  has  served,  in  giving 
animation,  and  depth,  and  intensity,  and  warrant,  too, 
to  the  devout  meditations  of  thousands  of  the  most 
devout,  and  of  the  purest  minds.  Those  who  have  no 
consciousness  of  this  kind,  and  whose  feelings  and 
notions  are  all  "  of  the  earth — earthy,"  will  not  fail  to 
find  in  this  instance  that  which  suits  them,  for  purposes, 
sometimes  of  mockery,  sometimes  of  luxury,  sometimes 
of  disbelief.  Quite  unconscious  of  these  perversions, 
and  happily  ignorant  of  them,  and  unable  to  suppose 
them  possible,  there  have  been  multitudes  of  unearthly 
spirits  to  whom  this — the  most  beautiful  of  pastorals, 
has  been — not  indeed  a  beautiful  pastoral,  but  the 
choicest  of  those  words  of  truth  which  are  "  sweeter 
tluin  honey  to  the  taste,"  and  "  rather  to  be  chosen 
than  thousands  of  irold  and  silver." 


8* 


CnAPTER  XI. 

THE  POETRY  OF  THE  EARLIER  HEBREW  PROrHETS. 

Tavo  subjects,  quite  distinct  and  separable,  present 
themselves  for  consideration  when  the  "  goodly  fellow- 
ship of  the  Prophets''  conies  in  view.  The  first  of  these 
subjects  embraces  what  belongs  of  right  to  the  function 
of  the  Biblical  expositor,  whose  office  it  is  to  examine 
and  illustrate,  in  series^  those  predictions  which,  in  their 
fulfilment,  give  evidence  of  a  divinely-imparted  presci- 
ence as  to  future  events.  The  second  of  these  sub- 
jects has  a  less  definite  aspect;  for  it  has  to  do  with 
tliat  Prophetic  mood — that  hopeful,  forward-looking 
habit,  which  is  the  prerogative,  as  it  is  the  marked 
characteristic  also,  of  the  Hebrew  prophetic  writings,  at 
large :  it  is  so  generally,  although  not  in  each  instance, 
or  in  equal  degrees  in  each  of  them  ;  but  each,  without 
exception,  is  true  to  great  Theistic  j^rinciples ;  yet  it  is 
not  all  that  display  this  far-seeing,  and  this  world-wide 
anticipation  of  good  things,  on  the  remote  horizon  of  the 
human  destinies — the  destinies,  not  of  the  one  people, 
but  of  all  nations. 

This  benign  hilarity — this  kindly  Catholicism — this 
glowing  cosmopolitan  prescience  of  a  far-distant  age  of 
universal  truth,  righteousness,  and  peace,  is  indeed  the 
prophetic  glory,  and  its  prerogative  :  it  is  the  glory  of 
the  Hebrew  poets — for  poetry  without  hopefulness  is 
inane  and  dead.      On  this  oround  these  ancient  Seers 


HEBREW    POETRY.  179 

occupy  a  position  where  lliey  li:ive  no  compctitoi-s. 
On  this  i>rounil  they  are,  in  a  true  sense,  the  masters  of 
Modern  Thouglit ;  for  it  is  they  wlio  have  suggested, 
and  who  have  supplied  tlie  text  for,  tliose  forecastings 
of  the  destiny  of  the  nations  wliicli,  in  these  times 
especially,  have  been  pievalent  in  the  writings,  not  of 
divines  merely,  but  of  philosophers.  We  all,  in  these  days 
of  great  movements,  have  learned  to  think  liopefully  of 
every  philantliro})ic  enterprise  ;  and  our  teachers  in  this 
line  have  been — the  "  goodly  fellowship  of  the  rroi)hets." 
If  it  were  required  to  mention  a  one  feature  which 
would  be  the  most  characteristic  of  our  modern  modes 
of  thinking,  as  contrasted  with  ancient  classical  modes 
of  thinking,  we  should  not  find  a  better  than  this  : — the 
philosophers,  and  the  statesmen,  and  the  poets,  and  the 
orators,  of  classical  antiquity,  thought  and  spoke  of  the 
past ;  and  their  look-out  was  contemporaneous  only. 
But  the  philosophers,  and  the  statesmen,  and  the  poets, 
and  the  orators  of  modern  Europe,  although  they  are 
not  unmindful  of  the  past,  and  are  occujjied  with  the 
present,  show — all  of  them — this  ditoxupaooxia — this  "ear- 
nest expectation" — this  hopeful  faith  in  the  future — this 
never-to-be-bafHed  confidence  in  a  yet  coming  morning 
time,  and  a  noon  too,  for  the  nations — savage  and  civi- 
lized. Subjects  a})parently  the  most  remote  from  the 
region  of  i)hilanthropic  enthusiasm — speculations  the 
most  thriftlike  and  dry — show  this  tendency  to  work 
themselves  round  towards  this  sunshine — the  sunshine  of 
universal  well-being — industry — safety — peace — wealth, 
which  is  in  store  for  every  continent.  It  is  so  that  the 
economist,  in  calculating  next  year's  prices,  ruled  by  the 
probable  supply  of  indigo — of  cotton — of  tobacco — of 
sugar — of  cofiec — of  tea,  is  quite  likely  to  come  near  to 


180  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

tlie  very  subjects  which,  at  the  same  moment,  i)latforin 
philantliro[)ists  are  propounding  to  crowded  meetings  : 
nay,  it  is  likely  that  this  same  economist  shall  be  work- 
ing up,  in  his  tables  of  imports,  the  very  evidence  that 
has  lately  been  brought  home  by  the  wan  Missionary 
from  India,  or  from  Africa.  And  so  near,  on  this  gi'ound, 
do  we  often  come  to  an  actual  collision,  that  the  astute 
mercantile  speculist  shall  be  heard  quoting  the  very  man 
— who  is  quoting  Isaiah  ! 

This  now  established  usage  of  the  modern  mind  was 
never  the  usage  of  antiquity — Grecian  or  Roman.  We 
owe  this  revolution,  we  owe  this  shifting  about  toward  a 
better,  and  a  brighter,  and  a  hopeful  futurity,  mainly  to 
the  Hebrew  Prophets.  Certain  luminous  passages  have 
been  made  use  of — we  might  say — to  jewel  the  machinery 
of  modern  society — especially  in  this  country,  and  have, 
these  seventy  years  past,  been  the  centre-points  of  schemes 
of  distant  civilization ;  and  so  it  is  that,  at  the  very  time 
when  a  nugatory  criticism  is  questioning  the  super- 
human prescience  of  this  or  that  single  i)rediction,  in 
the  Old  Testament,  Ave  are  all  of  us  in  group — philan- 
thropists— missionaries — ship-owners — dealers  in  mer- 
chandises of  all  sorts,  we  are  all  of  us  risking  our  lives — 
riskino-  lives  dear  to  us — riskinc:  our  fortunes — we  are 
sending  out  merchant  navies,  and  are  building  mills, 
and  are  doing  a  half  of  all  that  is  done  in  this  busy 
world,  on  a  belief  that  keeps  itself  alive  by  aid  of  those 
passages  of  far-looking  brightness  which  illumine  the 
pages  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures. 

This  catholic  mood  of  hopefulness  has  been  derived 
much  more  from  the  Hebrew,  than  from  the  Christian 
Scriptures;  in  truth,  scarcely  at  all  from  these  (as  we 
shall  have  occasion  to  show).     But  with  the  Prophets, 


HEBREW    POETRY.  181 


the  future  so  g-ovcrned  tliem  that  tliey  seem  oblivious  of 
those  materials  in  their  own  archaic  literature  of  which, 
if  it  had  been  at  hand,  in  the  same  distinct  and  authentic 
form,  the  Poets  of  Greece  would  have  made  no  sparing 
use..  A  phrase  or  two  recollective  of  the  golden  para- 
dise, or  of  the  silvery  ^matriarchal  era,  is  all  they  can 
aiford  : — they  were  intent  upon  the  future  : — tlie  briglit- 
ness  they  thought  of  was  that  of  an  inheritance  in 
reversion ;  not  that  of  a  paradise  lost.  These  Seers — 
or  some  of  them — had  been  led  np  in  spirit  to  the 
summit  of  the  Nebo  of  universal  history ;  the  Seer  had 
thence  caught  a  glimpse  of  ridges  illumined  in  the 
remotest  distance;  and  the  reflection  rests  now  upon  the 
pages  of  our  Bibles. 

It  is  greatly  this  steadfast  confidence  in  a  briglit 
future  for  all  nations  that  gives  unity  and  coherence  to 
this  series  of  Hebrew  prophecy,  and  which  blends  into 
a  mas's  the  various  materials  of  which  it  consists.  It  is 
this  hope  for  the  world  that  has  welded  into  one  the 
succession  of  the  Old  Testament  writers.  The  Patriarch 
of  the  race  received  this  very  promise,  that  in  him 
should  all  nations  hereafter  be  made  happy.  David 
and  the  Psalmists  take  up  this  same  large  assurance, 
and  say — "  All  nations  Avhom  Thou  hast  made  shall 
come,  and  worship  before  Thee.''  Isaiah  rests  often 
upon  this  theme,  and  kindles  as  he  expands  it ;  and  one 
of  the  last  of  this  company  foresees  the  setting  up  of  a 
kingdom  Avhich  should  have  no  end,  and  which  should 
embrace  "  all  people,  nations,  and  languages."  It  is 
true  that  Palestine  was  always  the  Hebrew  Prophet's 
foreground,  and  the  Holy  City  Ids  resting-])lace  ;  but 
he  looked  out  beyond  tliese  near  objects,  and  with  the 
remoteness   of  placj  he   connected   the   remoteness  of 


182  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

time,  and  dwelt,  with  fervent  aspirations,  upon  the  pro- 
mise of  an  age  when,  "  from  the  rising  of  the  sun  to 
tlie  going  down  of  the  same,"  the  anthems  of  a  univer- 
sal worsliip  shall  ascend  from  eartli  to  heaven. 

So  far  as  the  Israelitish  people  may  be  represented 
by  tlie  series  of  their  Avriters,  tlien  it  may  be  affirmed 
that  these  obdurate  Hebrews — this  stubborn  repellant 
mass — this  knot  at  the  core  among  the  nations,  were,  in 
fact,  the  most  resolutely  hopeful  of  all  people,  and 
beyond  compare  they  were  wont  to  look  a-head  toward 
tlu^  future.  The  Israelite — if  the  prophet  speaks  in  his 
name — was,  notwithstanding  his  nationality,  and  his 
hot  patriotism,  the  one  man  upon  eartli  who  entertained 
thoughts  concerning  a  remote  mundane  renovation,  and 
Vv'ho  anticipated  a  time  of  peace  and  truth  and  justice 
and  good-will,  for  all  men.  The  august  fathers  of  the 
Roman  State  were  not  more  steadfast  in  hope  for  the 
republic,  in  seasons  of  dismay,  than  were  the  Hebrew 
peo[)le — if  we  are  to  gather  their  mood  from  their 
Prophets.  This  people  was  elastic  in  temper,  and 
resolved,  even  when  in  the  furnace  of  affliction,  and 
when  the  feet  Avere  bleeding  on  the  flints  in  exile,  still 
to  reserve  its  inheritance  in  a  remote  futurity ;  and  this 
futurity  embraced  a  wide  area.  Whatever  the  Jew  of 
later  times  may  have  become,  as-the  subject  of  centu- 
ries of  insult  and  outrage,  his  ancestors  of  the  pro- 
phetical era  were  well  used  to  the  hearing  of  passages 
that  breathed,  not  only  justice  and  mercy,  but  an 
unrestricted  philanthropy. 

The  Prophets,  never  forgetful  of  the  prerogatives  of 
the  descendants  of  Abraham,  and  never  relaxing  their 
grasp  of  the  land  which  had  been  granted  in  fee  simple, 
and  forever,  to  their  race,  give  expression  to  sentiments 


HEBREW    POETRY.  183 


I 

I 
I 

I 


wliic'h  arc  <|uito  uiiparallolled  in  classic  literature,  llroad 
liopes  and  generous  wishes  for  the  Avorld  took  a  i)lace 
also  in  the  daily  liturgies  of  the  teinple-worship  ;  and 
thus,  in  whatever  manner  passages  of  a  different  aspect 
might  come  to  be  reconciled  with  these  expressions, 
these  stood  as  a  permanent  testimony,  bearing  witness 
on  the  behalf  of  universal  good-will ;  and  thus  did 
they  avail  to  attemper  the  national  mind.  There  may 
take  place  a  balancing  of  influences — a  counteraction  of 
motives,  where  there  neither  is,  nor  could  be,  a  logical 
adjustment  of  the  apparent  contrariety  of  the  two  kinds 
of  moral  force.  Intensely  national  were  the  Hebrew 
people — concentration  was  the  rule  ;  but  largeness  of 
feeling  co-existed  therewith,  and  it  did  so,  not  as  a  rare 
exception  ;  and  it  has  embodied  itself  in  passages  (as 
we  have  said)  which  have  come  to  be  the  text  and 
stimulants  of  modern  philanthropy. 

If  at  this  very  time  such  an  event  might  be  supposed, 
as  a  final  and  formal  abandonment  of  whatever  it  is  in 
the  Hebrew  prophetical  writings  that  is  predictive  of 
the  ultimate  triumph  of  justice  and  benevolence, 
throughout  the  world,  and  of  a  happy  issue  of  human 
affairs — if  we  were  so  resolved  as  to  cut  off  the  entail 
of  hope,  consigned  to  all  nations  in  the  Old  Testament, 
we  should  quickly  be  brought  into  a  mood  of  despair, 
and  should  learn  to  look  in  sullen  apathy  at  those  things 
Avhich  Hebrew  Prophets  regarded  with  healthful  ho})e. 
Any  such  abnegation  of  good  in  the  future  would  give 
a  mortal  chill  to  useful  enthusiasm;  it  would  be  as  a 
poison  shed  upon  pati-iotism — confirming  it  in  its  sel- 
fishness, and  depriving  it  of  its  leaven  of  benevolence. 
Such  an  excision  of  the  predictive  philanthropy  from 
our  Bible  would  bring  every  self-denying  and  arduous 


184  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

enterprise  for  the  benefit  of  others  to  a  speedy  end  :  it 
Avould  be  death,  in  a  moral  sense,  to  the  teacher  of  the 
ignorant,  and  to  the  champion  of  the  oppressed.  When 
we  shut  off  forever,  from  our  modern  civilization,  the 
genial  glow  of  the  Hebrew  predictive  writings,  we  let 
in  upon  the  nations — Atheism  in  matters  of  religion — 
Despotism  in  politics — Sensuality,  unbridled,  in  morals, 
and  a  dark  despair  for  the  poor  and  the  helpless  all  the 
world  over. 

An  expectation  of  the  ultimate  trium|)li  of  justice 
and  peace — an  expectation  unknown  to  classical  anti 
quity — has  operated  as  a  yeast,  leavening  the  mass  of 
the  modern  social  system,  just  so  far  as  Bible-teaching 
has  prevailed  among  any  people.  This  expectation  has 
drawn  its  warrant  from  the  prophetical  books  of  the  Old 
Testament ;  and  from  these  much  rather  than  from  the 
Christian  Scriptures.  It  is  a  fact  deserving  notice, 
that  the  narrow  and  unphilanthropic,  if  not  the  misan- 
thro'pic,  mood — the  suUenness  which  modern  Judaism  has 
assumed — has  been  contemporaneous  with  the  rabbini- 
cal practice  of  excluding  the  Prophets  from  the  ordinary 
routine  of  public  worship  in  the  synagogue  ;  while  the 
books  of  Moses  and  portions  of  the  Psalms,  almost 
exclusively,  have  supplied  the  Sabbatli  lessons.  Whether 
or  not  the  reasons  usually  alleged  for  this  restricted  use 
of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  by  the  Jewish  rabbis  be  the 
true  reasons,  it  is  certain  that  the  consequence,  as  affect- 
ing the  temper  of  the  Jewish  mind,  must  have  been 
every  way  much  to  its  disadvantage.  The  modern 
Jewish  nation — the  rabbis  and  the  people  alike — have 
known  very  little  of  those  incandescent  passages  which 
we  Christian  Bible-readers  listen  to  with  never-failing 
delight.      Christian    philanthropy,    whether    wisely   or 


HEBREW    POETRY.  185 

unwisely  developed  in  ]);iitieuhir  instances,  undertakes 
its  labours  for  the  benefit  of  the  wretelied,  or  for  the 
deliverance  of  the  slave,  in  assured  j^rospect  of  a  reign 
of  righteousness  which  shall  bless  the  nations,  when  an 
Iron  Sceptre  siiall  be  wielded  by  llini  "  who  shall  spare 
the  poor  and  needy,  and  shall  save  the  souls  of  the 
needy  ;  and  shall  redeem  their  souls  from  deceit  and  vio- 
lence, and  in  whose  sight  their  blood  shall  be  precious.'' 

It  is  oh  this  very  ground  (aground  which  they  occupy 
alone)  as  prophets  of  good  things  for  all  nations — 
good  things  far  oft*  in  the  distance  of  ages, — that  the 
claim  of  inspiration,  in  the  fullest  sense,  may  with  pecu- 
liar advantage  be  aftirmed  and  argued.  It  is  on  this 
ground  that  the  Old  and  New  Testament  Scriptures 
are  seen  to  stand  toward  each  other  in  their  proper 
relationship,  as  constituents  of  the  one  scheme  or  system 
which  was  ordered  and  planned  from  the  beginning  of 
time,  and  which  extends  to  its  close.  Unless  we  thus 
believe  the  Hebrew  Prophets  to  have  been  inspired  of 
God,  it  will  not  be  possible  to  show  a  reason  for  the 
avoidance  of  the  same  buoyant  and  hopeful  style,  as 
well  in  Christ's  discourses  and  parables,  as  in  the  Apos- 
tolic epistles.  If  the  question  be  this — Why  has  not 
Christ — or,  why  did  not  His  ministers,  predict  a  future 
golden  age  for  the  world  at  large  ? — we  find  no  answer 
that  can  easily  be  accepted,  unless  we  take  this — That 
the  function  of  predicting  the  triumi)h  of  reason  and  of 
])eace  upon  earth  had  been  assigned  to  the  prophets  of 
the  olden  time,  who  have  well  acquitted  themselves  in 
this  respect.  How  stands  it  in  a  comparison  of  the 
older  and  the  later  Scriptures,  on  this  very  ground  ? 

Promises  addressed  to  the  individual  believer,  assuring 
to  him  his  daily  bread,  and  other  things  that  are  need- 


186  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

ful  for  tliis  life,  do  occur  in  the  Gospels,  and  also  in  the 
Epistles,  and  the  Divine  faithfulness  is  pledged  to  this 
extent — "  I  will  never  leave  thee — no,  never  forsake 
thee ;"  and  the  rule  of  Christian  contentment  is  thus 
conditioned, — "  Having  nourishment  and  shelter,  let  us 
therewith  be  content."  Not  only  are  the  ancient  pro- 
mises of  earthly  wealth,  as  the  reward  of  individual 
piety,  not  reiterated  in  the  Xew  Testament,  but  there  is 
an  abstinence — most  remarkable,  as  to  any  predictions 
of  secular  welfare  for  the  nations  of  the  world,  and  even 
as  to  the  future  universality  of  the  Gospel :  what  we 
actually  lind  has,  for  the  most  part,  a  contrary  meaning, 
and  a  sombre  aspect.  (The  Apocalypse  demands  a  dis- 
tinct rule  of  exposition.) 

Throughout  the  ancient  prophetical  Scriptures  the 
rule  is  this : — The  things  of  earth,  religiously  considered, 
are  spoken  of,  such  as  they  appear  when  seen  from  the 
level  of  earth,  and  under  the  daylight  of  the  present 
life  :  the  prophets  speak  of  things  "  seen  and  temporal" — 
piously  regarded.  Throughout  the  Christian  Scriptures 
the  things  of  earth — the  things  "  seen  and  temporal" 
— are  again  spoken  of,  and  again  they  are  religiously 
regarded  as  before  ;  but  now  it  is  as  they  appear  when 
looked  at  from  the  level  of  the  things  that  are  unseen 
and  eternal.  From  the  one  level  the  very  same  objects 
wear  an  aspect  of  gladsomeness  and  exultation,  which, 
as  they  are  seen  from  the  other  level,  appear  under  an 
aspect  that  is  discomfiting  and  ominous.  But  besides 
this  difference  of  aspect  only,  it  is  objects  of  a  different 
class  that  appear  to  be  in  vie\\',  severally,  by  the  pro- 
j)hets,  and  by  Christ  and  His  ministers.  The  contrast, 
as  exhibited  in  a  few  instances  among  many,  is  very 
suggestive  of  reflection. 


HEBREW    rOETIlY.  187 

The  Hebrew  Prophet  is — the  man  of  hope  ;  he  looks 
on  throiio-li  the  mists  of  long  ages  of  turmoil  and  eon- 
fusion  : — immediately  in  front  he  sees  the  rise  and  the 
ruin  of  neighbouring  kingdoms  ;  but  he  sees,  in  the  remo- 
ter distance,  a  bright  noon  for  humanity  at  large — 
"  When  the  wolf  and  the  lamb  shall  feed  togetlier,  and 
the  lion  eat  straw  like  the  ox — when  dust  shall  be  the 
serpent's  meat:  and  when  none  shall  hurt  or  destroy 
in  the  mountain  of  the  Lord."  The  Christian  Seer — 
his  eye  turned  off  from  the  course  of  this  world's  affairs 
— tliinks  only  of  the  future  of  the  Christian  common- 
wealth, and  thus  he  forecasts  this  future — "For  I 
know  that  after  my  departing  shall  grievous  wolves 
enter  in  among  you,  not  sparing  the  flock.  Also  of 
your  ownsehes  shall  men  arise,  speaking  perverse  things, 
to  draw  away  disciples  after  them."  The  ancient  Seer, 
expectant  of  good — good  for  the  wide  world — says, — 
"  It  shall  come  to  pass  in  the  last  days  that  the  moun- 
tains of  the  Lord's  house  shall  be  established  on  the  top 
of  the  mountains,  and  shall  be  exalted  above  the  hills, 
and  all  nations  shall  flow  unto  it.''  But  the  Christian 
Prophet  foretells  such  things  as  these,  and  says — "  Now 
the  Spirit  speaketh  expressly  that  in  the  latter  times 
some  shall  depart  from  the  faith;"  and  another  afiirms 
that  "  in  the  last  days  perilous  times  shall  come  ;"  for 
in  those  latter  days  men  generally,  retaining  a  form  of 
piety,  shall  abandon  themselves  to  the  sway  of  every 
evil  passion — having  the  "  conscience  seared,  as  with  a 
hot  iron." 

The  Hebrew  Prophet,  from  his  watch-tower  upon 
Zion,  affirms  that  "  in  that  mountain  the  Lord  of  Hosts 
should  make  unto  all  people  a  feast  of  fat  things," — 
and  that  tJtere  "  He  will  destroy  the  face  of  the  cover- 


188  THE    SPIKIT    OF    THE 

ing  cast  over  all  people,  and  the  veil  that  is  spread  over 
all  nations:'' — the  Lord — the  God  of  Israel — "shall 
swallow  up  death  in  victory,  and  wipe  away  tears  from 
off  all  faces :  and  the  rebuke  of  Ilis  people  shall  He  take 
away  from  off  all  the  earth."  It  was  many  centuries 
later  in  the  world's  life-time,  and  therefore  it  was  so  much 
the  nearer  to  the  predicted  break  of  day  for  all  nations, 
that  the  Christian  Prophet  foresaw  a  thick  gloom,  out 
of  the  midst  of  Avliich  the  "  wicked  one"  should  arise, 
who  should  sit  in  the  temple  of  God,  and  there  should 
blasphemously  demand  for  himself  the  worship  that  is 
due  to  God,  and  actually  receive  it  from  the  deluded 
dwellers  upon  earth — even  the  multitude  of  the  nations. 
These  contrasts,  other  instances  of  which  may  be 
adduced,  are  not  contradictions :  they  are  not  contrary 
affirmations,  relating  to  the  same  objects,  or  to  objects 
seen  from  the  same  level;  but  they  bring  into  view,  in 
a  manner  that  should  fix  attention,  the  harmonious 
structure  of  the  Scriptures — the  Old  and  the  New 
Covenant.  The  latter  is  ruled  by  its  purpose  to  reveal 
and  confirm  the  hope  of  immortality,  which  must  be 
indicidaal  immortcdlty^  inasmuch  as  communities  have 
no  hereafter.  The  former,  spiritual  also  in  its  intention, 
not  less  so  than  the  latter,  is  yet  concerned  with  mun- 
dane welfares,  in  relation  to  which  nations  and  communi- 
ties are  regarded  in  mass  ;  and  therefore  these  Prophets 
look  on  to  the  very  end  of  the  secular  period : — they 
liave  in  view  the  longevity  of  nations  and  they  foretell 
the  remote  benefits  in  which  all  people  shall  be  partakers. 
It  is  the  life  everlasting,  which  Christ  and  His  minis- 
ters have  in  prospect,  while,  as  to  the  things  of  earth, 
they  see  only  those  changes  which  shall  bring  into  peril 
the  welfare  of  immortal  souls. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  180 

Easily  we  may  grant  it — even  if  we  fail  to  open  up 
tlie  reason  of  tlie  fact — tliat  it  nuist  be  always,  and 
only,  with  mundane  objects,  and  with  what  belongs  to 
the  now  visible  course  of  things — "the  tilings  that  are 
seen  and  temporal" — that  poetry  may  and  should  con- 
cern itself  So  it  is  that,  while  the  ancient  Proi)hets 
are  poets,  and,  as  such,  kindle  emotion,  and  illumine 
the  path  on  which  they  tread,  no  quality  of  this  sort 
can  (truthfully)  be  alleged  in  commendation  of  Evan- 
gelists or  Apostles.  The  encomium  of  these  takes 
another,  and  a  far  higher  ground.  Poetry  became  mute 
at  the  moment  when  immortality  Avas  to  be  proclaimed  : 
known  to  the  Patriarchs  and  Prophets,  and  pondered 
and  desired  by  them,  and  by  the  pious  always,  even 
from  the  first,  yet  an  authentic  announcement  of  it  had 
been  held  in  reserve  to  a  later  age ;  but  when  that  ful- 
ness of  time  had  come,  and  when  the  true  light  shone 
out,  then,  in  the  blaze  of  it,  the  things  of  earth  assumed 
another  aspect ;  and  even  the  perspective  of  them  under- 
went a  change,  when  they  were  seen  from  a  higher 
level.  In  passing  from  the  "fellowship  of  the  Prophets" 
to  the  "company  of  the  Apostles,"  it  is  true  that  we 
tread  the  same  solid  earth,  and  we  take  with  us  the 
same  human  nature,  and,  as  to  what  concerns  the  spirit- 
ual life,  we  breathe  the  same  atmosphere ;  but  we  leave 
behind  us  the  flowery  plains  of  earthly  good,  and  ascend 
to  heights  where  the  awful  realities  of  another  life 
banish  all  thought  of  whatever  is  decorative,  or  of  those 
objects  that  awaken  the  tastes  and  the  imngination. 
Poetry,  abounding  as  it  does  in  the  Old  Testament, 
fmds  no  place  at  all  in  the  New.  On  tJiis  ground  of 
comparison  the  difference  between  Isaiah,  Ilosea,  Joel, 
and   Paul,   Peter,   John,   or  James,  is  absolute.     So  it 


190  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


must  appear  in  bringing  into  comparison  some  passages 
which,  at  a  ghmcc,  miglit  seem  to  be  of  tlie  same  order. 

As,  for  instance,  there  occur,  in  the  Epistles  of  Peter, 
James,  and  Jude,  some  passages  whicli  not  only  take 
up  the  archaic  phraseology,  and  are,  in  a  marked  man- 
ner, of  the  Hebrew  mintage,  but  which  are  also  of  that 
denunciatory  kind  which  gives  them  an  exceptional  as- 
pect, as  related  to  the  evangelic  strain,  and  brings  them 
to  be  of  a  piece  rather  with  the  stern  manner  of  the  an- 
cient Seers,  in  protesting  against  the  wrong-doings  of 
their  contemporaries,  and  in  predicting  the  judgments 
of  God  upon  guilty  nations.  Nevertheless,  while  in  these 
instances  there  are  some  points  of  accordance,  the  points 
of  contrast  are  of  a  more  important  and  noticeable  kind. 

In  the  first  place,  these  Apostolic  samples  are  sternly 
and  ruggedly  prosaic : — they  have  no  rhythm,  and, 
although  figurative  in  terms,  they  are  graced  by  no  deco- 
rations;— they  demand  the  deepest  regard,  they  strike 
into  the  conscience,  they  awaken  terror  ;  but  with  the 
prediction  of  wrath  they  commingle  no  element  upon 
which  the  imagination  might  be  inclined  to  rest :  in  a 
word,  the  Apostolic  message,  Avhether  it  be  of  hope  or 
of  dread,  is  in  no  sense — poetry.  Turn  to  those  well- 
remembered  passages  whicii  might  recall  the  style  of 
Amos,  Joel,  Nahum : — "  For  if  God  spared  not  the 
angels  that  sinned  "  ..."  these  (wicked  men)  are  wells 
without  water,  clouds  that  are  carried  with  a  tempest.'' 
...  "  Go  to  now,  ye  rich  men,  weep  and  liowl  for  your 
miseries  that  shall  come  upon  you.''  ..."  Ungodly  men, 
crept  in  among  you,  raging  waves  of  the  sea,  foaming 
out  their  own  shame."  .  .  .  .*     Wanting  in  poetry,  but 

*  2  Peter  ii.  4.     James  v.      Jude. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  191 

explicit  in  moral  intention,  are  the  Apostolic  dcnnncia- 
tions  ;  and  nearly  combined  are  they  always  with  the 
Christian  assurance  of  immortality  : — this  is  the  Apos- 
tolic mark.  So  it  is  with  Jude,  who,  in  the  very  breath, 
which  has  given  utterance  to  the  message  of  wrath,  and 
when  he  has  made  his  protest  for  charity  and  mercy, 
commends  his  brethren  to  the  Divine  res-ard  in  that  si<»:- 
nal  doxology, — "  Xow  to  Him  that  is  able  to  keep  you 
from  tailing''  ....  And,  in  like  manner,  James  quickly 
releases  himself  from  his  stern  obligation  as  a  Projjhet 
of  judgment,  and  exhorts  the  Christian  sufferer  to  be 
l)atient — "  for  the  coming  of  the  Lord  draweth  nigh  ;" 
and  thus  also  Peter,  who  enjoins  his  brethren,  under  any 
extremity  of  suffering,  to  "hope  unto  the  end  for  the 
grace  that  is  to  be  brought  unto  them  at  the  revelation 
of  Jesus  Christ ;"  not  thinking  it  strange,  even  though 
"  a  fiery  trial "  should  be  appointed  for  them ;  but  rather 
rejoicing  in  the  prospect  of  the  "  glory"  in  which  they 
are  to  have  their  part. 

The  parallel  places  in  the  prophecies  of  Joel,  of  Amos, 
of  Micah,  and  Nahum,  are  not  only  metrical  and  rhyth- 
mical in  structure,  but  they  are  rich  in  various  imagery : 
magnificence,  sublimity,  and  beauty  too,  so  recommend 
these  protests  for  righteousness,  and  these  predictions 
of  national  woe,  that  we  now  read  and  rest  upon  these 
passages  with  a  relish  of  their  excellence  as  works  of 
genius ;  and  so  it  is  that  the  Hebrew  Poet  shares  the 
regard  of  the  modern  reader  with  the  Hebrew  Prophet. 
Ii  is  as  poetry  that  these  prophecies  wqvq  adapted  to  the 
services  of  congregational  worship  ;  and  in  this  manner 
were  they  consigned  to  the  memories  of  the  people. 
And  yet,  when  we  have  noted  this  contrast  between  the 
Prophetic  and  the  Apostolic  Scriptures,  there  remains 


192  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

to  be  noticed  another  contrast  that  is  more  marked,  and 
is  full  of  meaning — 

The  brief  prophecy  of  Ilabakkuk — one  of  those  that 
belong  to  the  earliest  era  of  the  Hebrew  prophetic  time 
— combines  those  qualities  of  style  that  distinguish  his 
peers  and  contemporaries ;  and  along  with  majesty  and 
splendour  and  vigour  of  expression,  there  is  the  constant 
protest  for  truth  and  justice,  and  the  uniform  sublimity 
of  a  pure  theology,  and  the  scornful  rebuke  of  the  folly 
of  the  idolater : — "  Woe  unto  him  that  saith  to  the 
wood.  Awake ;  to  the  dumb  stone,  Arise,  it  shall  teach  ! 
Behold,  it  is  laid  over  with  gold  and  silver,  and  there  is 
no  breath  at  all  in  the  midst  of  it."  Tiien  follows  an 
anthem,  unequalled  in  majesty  and  splendour  of  language 
and  imagery,  and  which,  in  its  closing  verses,  gives 
expression,  in  terms  the  most  aifecting,  to  an  intense 
spiritual  feeling ;  and  on  this  ground  it  so  fully  embodies 
these  religious  sentiments  as  to  satisfy  Christian  piety, 
even  of  the  loftiest  order.  Yet  in  this  respect  are  these 
verses  the  most  remarkable  that,  while  there  is  recog- 
nized in  them  the  characteristic  Hebrew  principle,  which 
gives  prominence  to  earthly  welfare,  the  Prophet,  for 
himself,  renounces  his  part  in  this — if  only  he  may  fully 
enjoy  a  consciousness  of  the  Divine  favour.  Yet  this  is 
not  all;  for  he  contents  himself  with  these  spiritual  enjoy- 
ments— apart  from  any  thought  of  the  future  life  and  of  its 
hopes  ;  thus  does  he  renounce  the  present  good  ;  and  yet 
he  stipulates  not  for  the  good  of  the  future  !  for  upon  this 
prophecy — bright  as  it  is  in  its  theistic  import,  there 
comes  down  no  ray  of  the  light  of  the  life  eternal! 
Witness  these  verses— ending  the  prophet's  ministry  in 
the  language  of  hope  ;  but  it  is  a  hope  very  ambiguously 
worded  if  at  all  it  takes  any  hold  of  immortality : — 


HEBREW    POETRY.  193 

Although  the  lig-troe  shall  not  blossom, 

Neither  fruit  be  in  tlie  vines ; 

The  labour  of  the  olive  shall  fail, 

And  the  fields  shall  yield  no  meat ; 

The  flock  shall  be  cut  off  from  the  fold, 

And  no  herd  in  the  stalls : 

Yet  I  will  rejoice  in  the  Lord, 

I  will  joy  in  the  God  of  my  salvation, 

Tlie  Lord  God  is  my  strength  : 

And  He  will  make  m}--  feet  like  hinds'. 

And  lie  will  make  me  to  walk  upon  high  places.* 

*  This  is  an  ode  to  be  commended  to  the  care  of  the  chief  sino-er 
and  to  be  accompanied  by  stringed  instruments — Ncginoth — and 
adapted  (may  we  not  conjecture  ?)  to  the  movements  of  the  sacred 
dance,  in  which  the  feet — well  trained,  should  give  proof  of  the  exul- 
taiiou  of  the  soul— moving  "like  hinds'  feet,"  even  upon  the  loftiest 
})lat[brm  of  the  temple  area.  Such  should  be  the  gladness  of  those 
who  took  up  this  ode : — it  should  be  hke  that  of  the  Psalmist,  who 
would  praise  God  with  the  i)saltery  and  harp ;  and  praise  Ilim,  too, 
with  the  timbrel  and  dance,  as  well  as  with  stringed  instruments  and 
organs,  and  with  loud  cymbals. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

CULMIXATIOX    OF    THE    IIEHllEW    rOETRY    AXD    PKOPIIECY 
IX    ISAIAH. 

Whatever  tlicre  is  of  poetry  in  tho  roll  of  the 
Prophets,  wh[ite\er  of  truth  and  of  purity,  and  of 
elevation,  as  to  moral  principle,  and  theistic  doctrine, 
and  especially  whatever  there  is  of  catholicity,  and  of 
hopefulness  for  all  nations,  is  preeminently  found  in  the 
book  of  the  prophecies  of  Isaiah.  These  prophecies  may 
well  be  said  to  embrace,  and  to  comprehend,  and,  in  a 
sense,  at  once  to  recai)itulate,  the  revelations  of  all  pre- 
ceding ages,  and  to  foreshow  the  revelations  that  were 
yet  to  come.  The  Moral  Law  is  there  in  the  fixedness 
of  its  eternal  axioms  :  the  spiritual  life  is  there  ;  and  the 
substance  of  the  Gospel  is  there  ;  for  the  Redeemer  of 
the  world,  and  the  most  signal  of  all  events  in  the 
world's  history,  are  there  ;  and  with  the  Saviour  the 
briglitness  of  the  latest  ages  of  the  human  family  sheds 
a  light  upon  this  propliecy.  Revelation  culminates  in 
the  pages  of  this  Prophet;  for  the  Old  and  the  New 
Covenants  are  therein  represented. 

But  how  much  more  than  a  poet  is  this  Prophet ! 
And  yet  as  a  poet  he  has  won  for  himself  the  very 
liighest  encomiums; — in  this  sense  they  are  the  higliest, 
that  they  have  been  nttered  by  those  who,  in  so  warmly 
connnending  the  Hebrew  bard,  have  been  incited  by  no 
rcl'iy'iuus  jiartiality  or  oi'lhodox  prejudice;  but  the  con- 


HEBREW    POETRY.  195 

trary.  Tii  this  instance  it  would  be  easy  to  get  released 
from  the  task  of  framing  eulogies  duly  expressive  of  tlie 
admiration  to  Avhich  this  poet  is  entitled ;  for  several 
German  scholars,  of  the  foremost  rank  as  Hebraists, 
have  already  so  exhausted  this  theme  that  it  would  be 
difficult  to  do  anything  else  than  to  repeat — sentence  by 
sentence,  what  they  have  said.  Certainly  there  has 
been  no  contrary  verdict  on  this  ground ; — or  none  that 
is  deserving  of  much  regard. 

If  there  were  now  a  question  concerning  the  richness 
and  the  com])ass,  the  wealth,  the  distinctiveness,  the 
])ower,  and  pliability  of  the  Hel)rew  language,  it  might 
well  be  determined  by  an  appeal  to  the  poetry  of  Isaiah. 
With  perfect  ease,  as  if  conscious  of  commanding  an 
inexhaustible  fund,  this  Prophet  (or  now  let  us  call  him 
Poet)  moves  forward  on  his  path  : — terms  the  most  fit 
and  various  are  in  his  store : — imagery,  in  all  sj>ecies, 
abounds  for  his  use,  whatever  be  the  theme,  and  whether 
it  be  terrible,  or  sombre,  or  gay  and  bright.  Or  if 
rather  the  question  related  to  the  culture  of  the  Hebrew 
mind,  in  that  remote  age,  and  to  its  susceptibility,  or  to 
the  existence  among  the  people,  or  many  of  them,  at 
that  time,  of  a  refined  spiritual  sensibility,  these  compo- 
sitions would  be  vouchers  enough  of  the  fact.  Let  the 
reader  put  off  for  awhile,  and  let  him  quite  distance 
himself  from,  his  Bible-reading  associations  : — let  him 
forget  that  the  book  of  the  son  of  Amoz  is  a  constituent 
of  the  Canon  of  Scripture;  and  then,  and  as  thus  read- 
ing it  afresh^  not  only  will  tJie  Poet  rise  in  his  view, 
and  take  rank  as  the  most  sublime,  the  most  rich,  the 
most  fuU-souled  of  poets,  but  there  M'ill  come  before 
him,  as  if  dimly  seen,  the  men  of  that  age — more  than 
a  few  sjcli — to  whom  these  utterances  of  the  religious 


196  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


life — tliesc  words  of  rcmonstraiieo,  and  of  comfort,  nnd 
of  hope,  would  be  reverently  listened  to,  and  treasured 
up,  and  recited  daily.  What  is  it  in  fact  that  is  clearly 
iini)lied  in  the  very  structure  of  these  compositions? 
Why  are  they  metiical  throughout?  Why  are  they 
elaborately  artificial  in  their  form?  It  must  be  for  this 
reason,  that  the  people  of  that  time,  and  their  ecclesias- 
tical rulers,  received,  Avith  devout  regard,  the  Prophet's 
deliverance  of  his  testimony,  and  that,  notwithstanding 
the  sharpness  of  his  rebukes,  this  "burden  of  the  Lord" 
took  its  place  among  the  recitatives  and  the  choral 
services  of  ])ublic  worship — to  which  purposes  they  are 
manifestly  adapted. 

An  experiment  of  this  khid  would  produce  itsj/??'.^^ 
effect,  in  thus  opening  to  our  view  at  once  tlie  ])reCMni- 
nence  of  the  Prophet,  as  a  poet,  and  the  advanced 
intellectual  and  religious  condition  of  his  contemporaries. 
But  then  an  effect  speedily  to  follow  this  first  would  be 
greatly  to  enhance  the  conviction  that,  in  this  instance, 
the  Poef^  admirable  as  he  may  be,  and  lofty  as  was  his 
genius,  is  far  less  to  be  thought  of  than  the  Prophet. 
Quickly  we  feel  that  he  himself  thus  thinks  of  his 
message,  and  is  in  this  manner  conscious  of  his  burden, 
and  that,  in  his  own  esteem,  he  is  so  absolutely  subordi- 
nate— he  is  so  purely  and  passively  instrumental,  in  the 
delivery  of  it  to  the  people,  that  the  message,  and  He 
from  whom  it  comes,  throw  into  shade  whatever  is  human 
only,  giving  undivided  prominence  to  what  is  Divhie. 
In  this  manner  the  reader's  religious  consciousness  so 
coalesces  with  the  Prophet's  consciousness  of  the  same, 
that,  as  often  as  the  prophetic  formula  occurs — "  Thus 
saith  the  Lord,"  the  solemn  truthfulness  of  this  averment 
commands  our  assent. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  197 

Feelings  of  tlie  same  class,  wliieli  give  the  modern 
reader  liis  sense  of  the  beauty  and  sublimity  of  Isaiah, 
as  a  poet,  carry  Mitli  them  a  deep  conviction,  which  no 
unsophisticated  mind  can  resist,  of  tlie  seriousness  and 
the  truthful  steady  adherence  of  the  Pr.opliet  to  his  call, 
as  the  minister  of  God.  If  there  be  anywhere  in  the 
compass  of  human  writings  irresistible  evidence  of  gen- 
uineness, and  of  honesty,  and  of  a  man's  confidence  in 
himself,  as  the  authentic  messenger  of  Heaven,  it  is  here 
that  such  indubitable  marks  of  reality  are  conspicuously 
l)resent.  Truth  is  consistent,  and  coherent,  and  uniform. 
Truth,  beneath  all  diversities  as  to  the  mode  of  its 
expression,  comes  home  to  every  conscience  by  the 
unvarying  fixedness  of  the  principles  on  which  it  takes 
its  stand.  And  so  it  is  that  the  utterances  of  this  prince 
of  the  i)ropliets,  dated  as  they  are  througli  the  years  of 
a  long  life — not  fewer  than  seventy — and  called  forth 
by  occasions  widely  dissimilar,  are  nevertheless  perfectly 
in  unison  as  to  the  theology  on  Avhich  they  are  based, 
and  as  to  the  ethical  principles  which  sustain  the  Pro- 
p>het's  denunciations  and  rebukes ;  and,  moreover,  as  to 
that  economy  of  Grace,  toward  the  humble  and  obedi- 
ent, which  illumines  the  first  page,  and  the  last  page 
Avith  a  ray  from  the  throne  of  God. 

Otherwise  thought  of  than  as  a  message  from  Him 
who  is  unchangeable  in  His  attributes  of  love,  this  con- 
sistency in  announcing  the  terms  of  mercy,  and  this 
sameness  of  the  style  in  which  the  penitent  are  invited  to 
seek  the  divine  favoui-,  is  wholly  inconceivable.  It  does 
not  belong  to  human  nature,  with  its  wayward  feelings 
— it  does  not  belong  to  human  nature,  with  its  constant 
progression  of  temper  and  temperament,  shifting  from 
early  manhood  to  the  last  months  of  a  term  of  eighty 


198  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


or  ninety  years,  tluis  to  utter  the  sunie  things,  in  the 
same  mood,  indicative  equally  of  unbroken  vigour  and 
of  unclouded  benignity.  Men,  however  wise  and  good 
they  may  be,  will  show  themselves  (as  they  are)  the 
creatures  of  their  decades : — they  will  date  themselves 
onward  in  their  style,  from  their  third  decade  to  their 
eighth  or  ninth.  But  this  Prophet  exhibits  no  such 
variations,  because,  in  youth  and  in  age  alike,  he  is 
delivering  a  message  from  Him  who  abides  the  same 
throughout  the  lapse  of  years. 

If,  indeed,  there  were  ground,  which  there  is  not,  for 
attributing  these  prophecies  to  two  authors,  with  an 
interval  of  centuries  between  them,  then  we  might  be 
content  to  look  only  to  the  thirty-nine  chapters  of  the 
more  ancient  Isaiah,  the  interval  between  the  earliest  of 
this  portion  and  the  latest  being,  by  the  acknowledgment 
of  modern  expositors,  fifty  years.  If  the  Prophet  as- 
sumed his  office  as  a  minister  of  Jehovah  at  the  earliest 
date  at  which  he  could  do  so,  then  he  had  reached  nearly 
the  limit  of  human  life  when  he  uttered  the  bright 
presages  contained  in  the  thirty-fifth  chapter.  It 
Avas  in  the  heat  of  manhood  that  he  thus  denounces 
the  hypocrisy  of  the  jieople — their  chiefs  and  their 
priests : —     ' 

Hear  the  word  of  the  Lord,  ye  rulers  of  Sodom. 
"Wash  you,  make  you  clean  ; 
Put  away  the  evil  of  your  doings. 

Yet  this  same  bold  reprover  is  not  a  man  who  was 
carried  away  by  his  own  fiery  temperament ;  for  in  the 
same  breath  he  thus  opens  the  path  of  mercy  to  who- 
ever may  relent : — 


HEBREW    POETRY.  199 

Como  now,  and  let  us  reason  togetlier,  saitli  the  Lord ; 

Though  your  sius  bo  as  scarlet,  tliey  shall  be  as  white  as  suow ; 

Though  tliey  be  red  like  crimson,  they  shall  be  as  wool. 

It  is  tlie  same  Isaiah,  now  in  extreme  age,  and  whose 
dnty  it  had  been,  thronghout  these  many  years,  still  to 
denounce  the  wickedness  of  the  wicked — as  thus : 
(chapter  xxxv.) 

Woe  to  Ariel,  to  Ariel, 

Tlie  city  where  David  dwelt  I 

Woe  to  the  rebellious  children,  saith  the  Lord ! 

It  is  the  same  ambassador  from  God — now  hoary  and 
tremulous,  yet  not  soured  in  temper — not  sickened  by  a 
life-long  ministration  among  a  gainsaying  people,  but 
benign,  as  at  tlm'ty,  and  hopeful  as  always,  who  sees, 
in  the  age  to  come,  "  the  wilderness  and  the  solitary 
place  made  glad,  and  the  desert — the  wide  world — blos- 
soming as  the  rose.''  It  is  he  who  says — as  at  first  he 
had  said  : — 

Strengthen  ye  the  weak  hands, 
And  confirm  the  feeble  knees. 
Say  to  them  of  a  fearful  heart, 
Be  strong,  fear  not. 

And  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord  shall  return, 
And  come  to  Zion  with  songs, 
And  everlasting  joy  upon  their  heads  ; 
And  they  shall  obtain  joy  and  gladness. 
And  sorrow  and  sighing  shall  flee  away. 

On  every  page  there  is  the  same  protest  for  truth, 
justice,  and  mercy,  between  man  and  man:  there  is  the 
same  mcssngo  of  wrath  for  the  oppressor  and  the  cruel. 


200  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

and  the  same  righteous  care  for  the  widow,  the  father- 
less, the  bondsman,  the  stranger.  On  every  page  there 
are  the  same  elements  of  what,  at  this  time,  we  acknow- 
ledge to  be  a  true  theology,  and  which  is  so  entire  that, 
after  ages  of  painful  cogitation  on  the  part  of  the  most 
profound  and  the  most  exact  minds — whether  philoso- 
l)hers  or  divines,  whether  ancient  or  modern — notliing 
that  is  preferable,  nothing  that  is  deeper,  or  more  aifect- 
ing,  nothing  which  we  should  do  well  to  accept,  and  to 
take  to  ourselves  as  of  better  quality,  has  been  educed 
and  taught,  or  is,  at  this  moment,  extant  and  patent,  in 
books — classical,  or  books — recent.  This  Prophet — if 
we  take  him  as  the  chief  of  his  order — is  still,  after  a 
two  thousand  seven  hundred  years,  our  master  in  the 
school  of  the  highest  reason  * 

This  consummation,  and  this  faultless  enouncement 
of  theistic  principles,  in  an  age  so  remote,  and  among 
a  people  unacquainted  Avith  the  methods  of  abstract 
thought,  is  a  fact  which  admits  of  explication  on  one 
ground  only — namely,  that  of  the  direct  inqiartation  of 
this  theology  from  Heaven.  So  strongly  do  those  feel 
this  who  read  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  ingenuously,  tliat 
the  affectation  which  will  be  prating  about  the  "  sublime 
and  fiery  genius'''^  of  the  Prophet  becomes  offensive  and 
insufferable.  Human  genius  soars  to  no  height  like 
this ;  and  as  to  human  reason^  to  find  a  sure  and  a 
straight  path  for  itself  on  its  own  level  is  more  than 
ever  it  has  yet  done. 

There  is,  however,  another  field  on  which,  if  we  fol- 
low this  Prophet  in  his  track,  from  the  earliest  of  his 
public  ministrations  to  the  latest  of  them,  a  conviction 

*  See  Note. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  201 

of  tlie  direct  inspiration  wlicnce  they  s])r:inL!,-  l)C'('()nies, 
if  possible,  still  more  firm.  These  propliesyini>s — de- 
livered to  the  people  and  princes  of  Jerusalem,  on  divers 
occasions,  tliroughout  the  lapse  of  seventy  or  eii;hty 
years — contain  (might  we  here  use  such  a  ])hrase)  a 
programme  of  the  Divine  purposes  toward  the  human 
family  to  the  end  of  time.  And  this  sketch — this  fore- 
showing- of  a  remote  futurity,  has  for  its  object,  or  its 
theme,  not  humanity  in  the  abstract,  uot  man  immortal ; 
but  onen  in  commiinity ;  and  not  a  one  people  only,  but 
the  commonwealth  of  nations.  Whatever  we  intend 
by  the  modern  phrase — Catholicity,  or  by  the  word — 
Cosmopolitan,  whatever  we  of  this  age  of  breadth  are 
used  to  think  of  when  we  talk  of  "  the  brotherhood  of 
nations,''  and  of  the  community  of  races— all  these 
ideas,  substantially  one,  are  embraced  in  that  prescience 
of  the  future  which  came  to  the  surface  so  often  during 
the  prophetic  ministrations  of  Isaiah.  Let  it  be  noted 
that  what  this  prescience  has  in  view  is  a  remote  terres- 
trial universality  of  truth,  peace,  justice,  order,  wealth, 
for  all  dwellers  beneath  the  sun.  In  a  word,  this  Pro- 
phet foresees  the  accomplishment  of  that  one  petition 
among  those  commended  by  Christ  to  His  disciples — 
"  Thy  will  be  done  on  earthy  even  as  it  is  done  in 
heaven." 

What  Ave  have  to  do  with  in  this  instance  is  not  just 
a  line  or  a  couplet,  here  or  there,  which  may  have  an 
and)iguous  import,  and  may  be  startling  on  account  of 
its  coincidence  with  remote  events ;  for  the  passages  now 
in  view  are  recurrent— they  are  ample,  and — one 
might  say — they  are  leisurely  in  the  development  of 
their  meaning:  they  open  out  objects  upon  which  a 
clear   noon-day    illumination    is    steadily  resting.     The 


202  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

Seer  so  speaks  as  if  indeed  he  saw  the  things  of  whieli 
lie  speaks  ;  and  he  so  sj^eaks  of  tlieni  after  intervals  of 
time — years  perhaps — as  if  the  very  same  objects,  per- 
manent and  unchanging  in  themselves,  were  by  himself 
recognized  afresh  as  long  familiar  to  his  eye.  Was  it 
then  a  man  of  Jiidah  like  others — was  it  one  who  paced 
the  streets  of  Jerusalem,  and  pressed  forward  among 
his  countrymen  upon  the  ascents  of  the  temple — was  it 
one  gifted  only  as  others  may  have  been  gifted,  who 
thus,  long  before  the  dawn  of  historic  time  (as  to  other 
nations)  looked  right  a-head,  and  afar  over  and  beyond 
the  bounds  of  thousands  of  years,  and  who  saw,  in  that 
remoteness,  not  a  hazy  brightness — an  undefined  cloud, 
or  a  speck  of  light  upon  the  horizon  ;  but  who  gazed 
upon  a  fair  prospect — wide  as  the  inhabited  earth,  and 
fair  as  it  is  wide,  and  bright  as  it  is  wide,  and  of  as  long 
endurance  as  the  terrestrial  destiny  of  man  shall  alloAv? 
Assuredly  the  seeing  a  prospect  like  this  is  no  natural 
achievement  of  genius : — it  is  nothing  less  than  a  pre- 
science which  He  only  may  impart  who  "  knoweth  the 
end  from  the  beginning  ;"  and  in  whose  view  thousands 
of  ages  are  as  the  now-passing  moment. 

The  predictions  of  Isaiah  and  the  predictions  of  Da- 
niel are  of  Avholly  dissimilar  character: — they  have  a 
different  intention,  and  they  demand  exi)osition  on 
different  principles.  Those  of  Daniel  are  precisely 
defined,  although  not  opened  out  in  detail ; — they  are 
distinctly  dated  in  symbol,  they  have  a  limitation  also 
which,  in  respect  of  what  has  the  aspect  of  hope,  seems 
to  keep  in  view  a  national  rather  than  a  cosmopolitan 
era  of  renovation  ;  and  then,  in  exchange  for  the  pro- 
spect of  good  in  reserve  for  all  nations,  there  is  in  this 
later-age  prophecy  a  far  more  distinct  doctrine  of  im- 


HEBREW    POETRY.  203 

mortality,  and  of  the  resiirroction  of  the  dead,  tliaii  it 
had  liitlierto  been  permitted  to  tlie  Hebrew  prophets  to 
aimonnee.""^ 

The  i>redietions  of  Isaiali  are  less  distinetly  marked — 
as  to  their  chronology — than  are  those  of  Daniel,  be- 
cause they  embrace  extensive  and  unlimited  eras  of  tlie 
future,  and  tliey  are  unrestricted  as  to  place,  because 
they  coni})reheud  all  dwellers  upon  earth.  Although 
localized  in  respect  of  the  centre  whence  the  universal 
renovation  shall  take  its  rise,  these  predictions  overpass 
all  other  bounds  : — such  as  this  is  the  prophet's  style : — 

Id  this  mountain  shall  the  Lord  of  Sabaoth  make  unto  all  people, 

A  feast. 

And  He  will  destroy  in  this  mountain 
The  face  of  the  covering  covering  all  people, 
And  the  veil  that  is  spread  over  all  nations. 
He  will  swallow  up  death  in  victory. 

Placed  almost  in  front  of  this  eighty  years'  course  of 
l)rophecy,  as  if  it  were  the  text  of  whatever  is  to  follow, 
and  as  if  it  were  to  serve  as  a  caution,  or  as  a  counterac- 
tion, of  auy  inference  that  might  be  drawn  from  the 
denunciations  that  are  to  occupy  so  large  a  space — is, 
this  foreshowing  of  a  high  noon  of  truth  and  peace  for 
all  I'aces  and  kindreds  of  the  one  human  family  : — 

And  it  shall  come  to  pass  in  the  last  days, 

The  mountain  of  the  house  of  Jehovah 

Shall  be  established  {constituted)  in  the  top  of  the  mountains; 

And  shall  be  exalted  above  the  hills ; 

And  all  nations  shall  flow  unto  it. 

*  Daniel  xii.  2,  3.  The  p.irallel  passage  in  Isaiah  xxvi.  19.  should 
be  named  as  an  exceptive  instiince  as  to  lliat  prophet. 


204  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

And  many  peoples  shall  go  and  say, 

Come  3'e,  and  let  us  go  up  to  the  niouutaui  of  Jehovah, 

And  to  the  house  of  the  God  of  Jacob ; 

And  He  will  teach  us  of  His  ways,  and  we  will  walk  in  His  paths: 

For  from  Zion  shall  go  forth  ihe  Law, 

And  the  word  of  Jehovah  from  Jerusalem, 

And  He  shall  judge  among  the  nations, 

And  shall  rebuke  {convict  or  convince)  many  people  : 

And  they  shall  beat  their  swords  into  plowshares, 

And  their  spears  into  pruning-hooks: 

Jfation  shall  not  lift  up  sword  against  nation, 

Neither  shall  they  learn  war  any  more. 

These,  and  eight  or  ten  other  passages  of  similar 
import,  occurring  at  intervals  in  the  same  "  roll  of  the 
book,"  if  they  be  read  on  any  other  supposition  than 
that  of  their  Divine  origin  (this  understood  in  the  fullest 
sense)  must  be  regarded  as  marvels  indeed  of  which  we 
shall  never  be  able  to  give  any  solution ;  and  this  per- 
plexity has  its  two  aspects — the  first  is  this — that  a  man 
of  Judah,  in  that  age — let  us  attribute  to  him  whatever 
eminence  we  may,  as  to  intelligence — should  thus  have 
thought,  and  should  thus  have  uttered  himself,  concern- 
ing the  religious  condition  of  the  surrounding  nations 
of  that  time;  and  then  that,  thus  thinking,  he  should 
have  conceived  such  an  idea  as  that  which  is  conveyed 
in  his  anticipation  of  the  conversion  of  the  world,  in  the 
last  days,  to  truth  in  religion.  Certain  it  is  that  a  con- 
sciousness of  the  spiritual  condition  of  the  nations  then 
neighbouring  upon  Judfea  was  the  guiding-thought  of 
the  Prophet  in  these  passages — as  thus  : — 

Arise  !  shine!  for  thy  light  is  come, 
And  the  glory  of  Jehovah  is  risen  upon  thee ; 
For,  behold,  darkness  sliall  cover  the  earth, 
And  gross  darkness  the  nations; 


HEBREW    POETRY.  205 

But  Jeliovali  shall  arise  upon  thee, 
And  His  glory  shall  be  seen  upon  thee, 
And  the  nations  shall  walk  in  thy  light, 
And  kings  in  the  brightness  ot  thy  rising. 

Tlic  langnage  of  Isaiah,  in  tlins  speaking  of  the  sur- 
ronnding  nations,  does  not  savour  of  tlie  arrogance  of  a 
nation  that  is  insulated  by  its  profession  of  a  purer 
doctrine  tlian  that  of  others  ;  nor  does  it  betray  the 
irritation  or  scorn  of  such  a  people,  maintaining  its 
national  existence,  from  year  to  year,  in  a  precarious 
conflict  with  its  powerful  neighbours.  This  language  is 
as  calm  and  as  tranquil  as  it  should  be — grant  it  be  an 
utterance  from  the  tlirone  of  the  eternal  God.  lie  who 
counteth  the  nations  but  as  "  the  small  dust  of  the 
balance"  may  be  expected  thus  to  speak  of  tlieir 
delusions  :  but  not  so,  on  any  ordinary  principles  of 
liuman  nature,  the  bard  of  a  haughty  theistic  nation, 
contemning,  and  yet  dreading,  its  neighbours,  right- 
hand  and  left-hand.  Conceived  of  on  any  such  ordinary 
principles,  and  if  the  case  is  to  be  judged  of  on  grounds 
of  analogous  instances,  this  simplicity,  this  dignity,  this 
brevity,  are  not  to  be  accounted  for;  what  were  the 
facts? — In  looking  eastward  toward  the  military  em- 
])ires  of  the  great  rivers-land,  or  southward  to  the  mani- 
fold and  gorgeous  idolatries  of  the  i)eople  of  the  Nile, 
with  the  profound  symbolized  doctrine  of  those  worships, 
the  Israelitish  bard — the  man  of  glowing  imagination, 
supposing  him  to  be  nothing  more,  would  find  his  faith 
in  a  pure  theism,  and  his  constancy  in  adhering  to  the 
worship  of  Jehovah,  severely  tried.  These  neighbour 
ing  lands,  where  imperial  magnificence  surrounded  itself 
with  the  pomps  of  a  sensual  polytheism,  and  thus  gave  an 
air  of  sparkling  joyousness  to  the  cities,  palaces,  temples 


206  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

■ — tliese  lands  would  naturally  be  spoken  of  in  terms 
very  unlike  these  phrases  of  modest  truthfulness:  the 
language  which  here  meets  us  we  of  this  time  accept  as 
quite  proper  to  the  subject,  because  we  ourselves  have 
come  to  think  of  all  forms  of  polytheistic  superstition — 
ancient  and  modern,  in  the  same  manner;  to  o?^r  modern 
Christianized  vision  nothino;  can  seem  more  fitting:  than 
that  the  debasing  worships  of  ancient  Egypt,  or  of 
Assyria,  or  the  foul  superstitions  of  India,  should  be 
thus  metaphored — as  a  veil — a  thick  covering — a  gross 
darkness,  spread  over  the  people  which  still  abide  under 
tlie  shadow  of  paganism.  But  it  was  not  so  to  this  man 
of  Palestine,  three  thousand  years  ago.  The  Prophet 
of  Judah,  in  thus  speaking  of  the  religious  condition  of 
Assyria,  and  of  Egypt,  and  of  India,  used  a  style  which 
he  could  never  have  imagined — which  he  would  not 
have  employed,  if  the  terms  had  not  been  given  to  him 
from  above.  Those  wnll  the  most  readily  feel  this  who 
are  the  most  accustomed  to  carry  themselves  back  to 
remote  times,  and  to  realize,  in  idea,  the  modes  of  feeling 
of  the  men  of  countries  remote,  and  of  ages  now  almost 
forgotten. 

So  to  designate  the  religious  delusions  of  the  nations 
of  antiquity  was  not  the  native  gift  of  the  son  of  Amoz: 
— it  was  the  gift  and  office  of  the  Prophet  of  Jehovah  ; 
and  with  a  still  firmer  confidence  may  we  say  that  the 
prediction  which  follows  could  not  be  from  man,  but 
must  have  been  from  God. 

The  prediction  is  not  of  the  kind  that  breathes  the 
mood  of  national  ambition  ;  it  is  not  military,  but  the 
very  contrary  ;  it  is  not  of  the  same  sort  as  the  Islam 
fanaticism  ;  it  is  not  in  harmony  with  a  fierce  propagan- 
dism  ;  it  was  not  prompted  by  the  temper  of  that  later 


HEBREW    POETRY.  207 

aii-o,  wlien  tlie  ze:il  of  the  Pliarisec  incited  liim  to  "com- 
pass sea  and  land  lor  making  one  i)roseIyte."  This  pre- 
diction, by  tlie  very  tact  of  its  em}tloynient  ot'tinairative 
language  of  tliis  material  cpiality — l:)y  speaking  of  the 
fat  things,  and  the  delicacies,  and  the  old  wines,  proi)er 
to  a  royal  banquet,  and  in  associating  these  figures  with 
those  of  the  gross  darkness,  and  the  veil  of  the  covering, 
precluded  any  interpretation  of  a  lower  species ; — for  it 
is  manifest  that  as  was  the  darkness — as  was  the  cover- 
ing veil — symbolizing  religious,  moral,  and  spiritual 
ignorance  and  error,  so  should  the  feast,  and  the  refresh- 
ment, be  that  of  religions  nourishment,  and  of  moral 
renovation,  and  of  spiritual  enjoyment.  In  this  instance 
the  apposition  of  metaphors  furnishes  a  sure  guide  to  the 
interpretation.  And  then  the  history  of  the  nations, 
from  the  prophet's  age  to  this,  is  a  continuous  comment 
upon  the  prophecy.  And  so  does  the  course  of  events, 
at  this  very  moment,  give  indication  of  its  ultimate  en- 
tire accomplishment — adverse  events  and  thick  clouds 
of  the  sky,  notwithstanding. 

In  contradiction  of  the  strenuous  endeavours  of  many 
at  this  time  to  withdraw  men's  thoughts  from  the  past, 
and  especially  so  far  as  the  past  carries  a  religious  mean- 
ing, these  Hebrew  prophecies — those  especially  of 
]Micah,  and  of  Isaiah,  and  of  the  Psalms, — affirm  and 
attest  this  vital  principle,  affecting  human  destinies — 
namely,  historic  continuity.  It  is  on  tJiis  ground,  as 
much  as  upon  any  other,  that  the  religion  of  the  Scrip- 
tures stands  opposed  to  atheistic  doctrines  of  every  sort. 
The  Ilible  holds  all  ages — past  and  future — in  an  indis- 
soluVjle  bond  of  union,  and  of  causal  relationshij),  and 
of  development,  and  of  progress,  and  therefore — of 
hope,    animated    by   a   Divine    assurance    of    universal 


208  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

blessings  yet  to  come.  Moreover  this  same  historic 
continuity,  this  integral  vitality,  stands  connected  with 
a  law  of  geographical  centralization.  The  life  and  hope 
of  the  commonwealth  of  nations  is  not  a  vague  hypo- 
thesis, which  may  be  realized  anywhere,  and  may  spring 
up  spontaneously,  breaking  forth  at  intervals  from  new 
centres,  or  startling  attention  as  from  the  heart  of  bar- 
barian w^ildernesses ;  it  is  quite  otherwise.  Even  as  to 
the  light  of  civilization  and  of  philosophy,  it  has  shown 
its  constant  dependence  upon  this  same  law  of  historic 
continuity,  and  of  derivation.  Much  more  is  it — has  it 
ever  been  so — as  to  the  light  of  a  pure  theology,  and  of 
an  effective  morality. 

So  did  these  Hebrew  predictions,  after  a  slumber  of 
five  hundred  years,  wake  into  life  among  all  the  nations 
bordering  npon  Palestine,  when,  by  the  means  of  the 
Greek  version  of  the  entire  body  of  the  Hebrew  Scrip- 
tures, a  true  theology,  earnestly  sought  after,  and  ac- 
tually found,  by  the  thoughtful  in  every  city  of  the 
Roman  empire,  was  silently  embraced,  and  devoutly  re- 
garded by  thousands  of  the  several  races  clustered 
around  the  Mediterranean  Sea,  as  well  as  in  the  remotest 
East.  And  so  at  length  were  the  Prophets  of  that 
Elder  Revelation  honoured  hi  the  accomplishment  of 
their  words,  when  the  Apostolic  preaching — like  a  sud- 
den blaze  from  heaven — imparted  the  light  of  life  to 
millions  of  souls  throughout  those  same  countries — of 
Europe,  Africa,  and  Asia. 

Every  onward  movement  of  the  western  nations — 
even  those  movements  which  humanity  the  most  con- 
demns— has  shown  the  same  tendency  to  create  or  to 
restore,  a  religious  centralization,  which,  in  its  degree, 
has  been  an  accomplishment  of  these  same  predictions. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  209 

And  at  this  time  tliese  sliiniiig  words  of  hope  and  of 
l)eace,  accepted  as  they  are,  and  lionoured  by  the  one 
peo])le  among  the  nations  whose  destiny  and  whose  dis- 
l)ositions  carry  them  far  abroad — East  and  West — are 
working  out  their  own  fuliihnent  in  a  manner  that  is 
indicative  at  once  of  the  force  that  resides  in  the  word 
of  prophecy,  and  of  tlie  Divine  power  wliich  attends 
this  word,  and  Avhicli  shall  accomplish  it — in  every  iota 
of  it — in  "  the  last  times." 

Xot  yet  indeed  have  the  nations  ceased  to  "learn 
war ;''  on  the  contrary,  the  arts,  bearing  upon  the  me- 
chanical destruction  of  life,  and  the  demolition  of  de- 
fences, would  seem  to  be  making  such  advances  as  must 
render  the  practice  of  war  a  day's  work  only  in  effect- 
ing the  extinction  of  armies,  or  even  the  extermination 
of  races.  So  it  may  appear.  Nevertheless  each  of 
those  inventions  which  have  had  the  same  apparent 
tendency  have,  in  the  end,  availed  to  shorten  the  dura- 
tion of  wars,  and  to  diminish  the  amount  of  shiughter 
while  they  last.  Speculations  and  calculations  of  this 
kind  are,  however,  quite  beside  our  purpose.  War, 
when  it  shall  cease  to  "the  ends  of  the  earth,"  will  be 
excluded  by  the  concurrent  ojDeration  of  influences 
seculai",  and  influences  nioi'al,  or  religious.  Permanent 
peace  will  be  brought  about  in  the  course  of  the  provi- 
dential overruling  of  many  lower  causes,  and  by  the 
])roper  operation  of  causes  of  a  higher  quality.  This 
ultimate  blessedness  shall  at  once  "spring  out  of  the 
earth,  and  shall  look  down  from  heaven.'' 

What  concerns  us  just  now  is  this — to  note  in  these 
jtredictions  that  which  demonstrates  the  absolute  sub- 
ordination of  the  poetic  genius  to  the  prophetic  function 
of   the    man.     Tsaiah^we    are    told — was   a   man    who 


210  THE    SPIKIT    OF    THE 

should  rank  liigli  among  the  men  of  genius  of  all  ages  ; 
and  as  to  his  prescience,  it  was  that  only  which  is  a 
characteristic  of  the  poetic  inspiration :  he  was.  a  jwo- 
phet  just  so  far  as  he  was  a  poet.  This  hypothesis  does 
not  consist  Avith  the  facts  in  view.  As  often  as  he 
touches  themes  that  are  the  most  awakening  to  poetic 
feeling,  Isaiah — and  the  same  is  true  of  his  brethren — 
is  brief,  and  seems  in  haste  to  quit  the  ground  on  which 
he  has  set  foot  for  a  moment.  It  is  thus  in  the  passage 
just  above  cited,  in  which  the  attractive  conception  of  a 
silver  age  of  peaceful  rural  life,  to  which  all  nations 
shall  joyfully  return,  presents  itself;  and  again,  as  in 
this  passage  : — 

The  wilderness  and  the  soHtary  place  shall  be  glad  for  them, 

And  the  desert  shall  rejoice  and  blossom  as  the  rose. 

It  shall  blossom  abundantly, 

And  rejoice  even  with  singing; 

The  glory  of  Lebanon  shall  be  given  unto  itj 

The  excellency  of  Carmel  and  Sharon  ; 

They  shall  see  the  glory  of  Jehovah, 

And  the  excellency  of  our  God. 

The  passing  forward  is  immediate  to  themes  of  an- 
other order : — 

Strengthen  ye  the  weak  hands, 
And  confirm  the  feeble  knees. 
Say  to  them  of  a  fearful  heart. 
Be  strong — fear  not.     .     .     . 

Near  is  the  poet,  in  these  instances,  to  those  prima3Val 
conceptions  of  earthly  good  which,  to  the  Ilebi-ew  peo. 
pie,  were  fixed  elementary  ideas.  Easy — natural — 
pleasurable,  would  have  been  the  transition  to  the  Para- 
disaical   and   the    Patriarchal   morniufr   times    of   the 


HEBREW    POETRY.  211 

liiiinan  family.  No  such  divergence  is  in  any  instance 
allowed ;  nevertheless  the  flict  remains,  whether  we  duly 
reo-ard  it  or  not,  that  the  great  scheme  of  the  Hebrew 
prophetic  dispensation  exliibits,  in  this  instance,  as  in 
others,  the  universality  of  its  intention  ;  or  let  us  rather 
say — its  grasp  of  all  mundane  time  in  this  way,  that  the 
same  bright  conditions  which  had  attached  to  the  com- 
mencement of  the  human  destinies  on  earth,  are  fore- 
seen and  foreshown  as  the  ultimate  conditions  of  the  hu- 
man family.  As  there  was  a  paradisaical  morning,  so 
shall  there  be  a  high  noon  to  all  nations — a  noon  of 
earthy  good,  as  the  proper  accompaniment  of  the  tri- 
umph and  prevalence  of  religious  truth  and  love. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE     LATER     PROPHETS,    AND     THE    .DISAPPEARANCE     OF 
THE   POETIC    ELEMENT   IN   THE    HEBREW   SCRIPTURES. 

A  Century  onward  from  the  age  of  Micah  and  Isaiah, 
to  tliat  of  Jeremiah,  brings  to  view  the  greatness  of  tlie 
change  that  was  to  take  place  in  the  modes  of  the  one 
Revelation  of  the  Divine  will  and  purposes.  The  same 
principles  always,  but  another  style.  Let  it  rather  be 
said — a  progressive  change  was  taking  place  in  prepara- 
tion for  that  last  mode  of  this  teaching  from  heaven, 
when  the  awful  realities  of  the  human  system,  in  rela- 
tion to  the  future  life,  were  to  throw  into  the  shade,  as 
well  the  bright  eras,  as  the  dark  times,  of  this  visible 
mundane  economy.  Poetry,  therefore,  which  is  always 
a  function  of  this  visible  economy,  gradually  disappears 
from  the  inspired  pages ;  wdiile  the  prophetic  element 
assumes,  continually,  a  more  definite  character,  and  be- 
comes also  prosaic  in  its  tone  and  style.  Nevertheless 
while,  in  the  prophets  of  the  late  age.  Poetry  is  in 
course  of  subsidence,  there  does  not  take  place  a  corres- 
ponding relinquishment  of  metrical  forms.  An  instance 
of  this  is  presented  in  the  closing  portions  of  the  pro- 
j)hecies  of  Jeremiah — namely,  the  Lamentations,  where- 
in the  artificial  metrical  structure  prevails  in  a  higher 
degree  than  in  any  other  })art  of  the  Hebrew  Scrip- 
tures.* 

*  See  Note. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  213 

This  Projiliet — a  typo  of  Him  wlio  was  "  a('(]iiaint(Ml 
with  urictV — gi^os  evidence  at  once  of  tlie  sorrowful- 
ness, tlie  tender  sensitiveness  of  liis  tenn)cranient,  and 
of  liis  want  of  tliose  loftier  gifts  which  distinguisli  Tsaiali, 
and  which,  in  the  esteem  of  Biblical  critics,  entitle  him 
to  a  high  place  among  men  of  genius. 

The  difierence  between  the  two  Prophets  is  best  seen 
in  comparing  those  passages  in  the  later  prophet  which, 
as  to  subject  and  doctrine,  are  nearly  the  counterparts 
of  signal  passages  in  the  earlier  prophet.  Such  espe- 
cially are  those  places  in  the  two  in  which  the  majesty 
of  God  is  affirmed,  while  the  folly  and  vanity  of  idol- 
worship  receives  a  contemptuous  rebuke; — such  also 
are  those  which  predict  the  future  kingdom  of  peace, 
and  the  return  of  the  peoi)le  from  their  cai)tivity.'"  A 
richness  of  diction,  a  majestic  flow,  a  compass  and 
accumulation  of  imagery,  belong  to  the  one,  which  do 
not  appear  in  the  other;  but  then  this  later  prophet,  in 
some  places,  approaches  that  style  of  definite  prediction 
which  was  to  be  carried  still  further  by  his  successors. 

If  what  already  (Chap.  IV.)  we  have  said  concern- 
ing Palestine,  as  the  tit  birth-place  and  home  of  Poetry 
be  warrantable,  as  well  as  the  contrary  averment  con- 

*  Compare  passages  in  the  two  Prophets,  such  as  the  following:  — 
Jeremiah.  Isaiah. 

r  xl  12,  to  the  end. 
X.  1—16,  and  li.  15—19.  \    xliv.  G,  to  the  end. 

[   xlvi. 

xxiii  5— S.      ^  r   XXX.  19.  2 G. 

xxix.  '  J    XXXV. 

XXX.  10,  11.     ;  1    xlix.  7,  to  the  end. 

xxxi.  1 — U.  J  t   liv.  throughout. 


214  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


corning  the  levels  of  Mesopotamia,  then  the  fjict  that 
tlie  Prophets  of  the  Captivity,  Ezekiel  and  Daniel 
especially,  are  prophets  not  poets^  will  seem  to  be,  at 
least,  in  accordance  with  a  principle,  even  if  it  may  not 
be  addnced  as  a  proof  of  it.  The  captives  of  Judaea 
carried  with  them  the  Hebrew  lyre  ;  but,  seated  dis- 
consolate by  the  rivers  of  Babylon,  they  refused  to 
attempt  to  awaken  its  notes,  and  themselves  lost  the 
power  to  do  so.  On  the  banks  of  the  Chebar  (great 
canal)  and  on  the  banks  of  the  mighty  Hiddekel,  visions 
of  awful  magnificence  were  opened  to  the  seer's  eye ; 
and  lie  describes  what  he  saw :  but  his  description  is 
strictly  prosaic ;  nor  does  the  sublimity  of  the  objects 
that  are  described  at  all  enkindle  the  imagination  of  the 
reader.  The  reader,  to  become  conscious  of  their  sub- 
limity, must  carry  himself  into  the  midst  of  the  scene, 
and  picture  its  stupendous  creations  for  himself.  A 
passage  in  Isaiah  (chap,  vi.)  similar  to  that  which  opens 
the  prophecy  of  Ezekiel,  produces,  by  its  very  brevity, 
an  effect  on  the  imagination  which  the  elaborate  descrip- 
tion of  the  later  prophet  fails  to  produce. 

Along  with  this  subsidence,  or  disappearance  of 
poetry,  there  presents  itself  a  more  rigorous  style  of 
rebuke,  and  an  ethical  tone,  indicative  of  the  change 
that  was  coming  upon  the  national  character.  The 
Hebrew  man  of  Palestine — the  man  of  Judah — the 
citizen  of  Jerusalem — was,  in  this  late  age,  repre- 
sented by  the  Jew  of  the  Captivity,  and  this  personage 
has  more  affinity  with  the  Jew  of  modern  times,  than 
with  the  Hebrew  people  of  the  times  of  Isaiah.  It  is 
true  that  those  of  the  later  prophets  Avho  exercised 
their  ministry  in  Judea — these  are  Haggai,  Zachariah, 
Malachi — retained  the  archaic  style,   if  they  breathed 


HEBREW    POETRY.  215 

loss  of  its  animation;  but  it  is  not  so  with  Ezekiel,  or 
Mitli  Daniel:  those  lead  ns  on  toward  a  dispensation  in 
M  hioh  poetry  should  have  no  part.  Objects  held  forth 
in  vision,  for  a  symbolic  purpose,  may  be  stupendous,  or 
they  may  be  magnific,  or  splendid  ;  but  while  convey- 
ing their  import,  and  demanding  explication  as  emhlems^ 
they  quite  fail  to  stimulate  the  imagination,  or  to  satisfy 
the  tastes.  Not  only  is  it  true  that  allegory  is  not 
poetry,  for  it  contradicts,  it  excludes  poetry — it  is 
prosaic  emphatically  :  faculties  of  another  order  are 
appealed  to  ;  and  when  these  are  in  act  the  tastes,  and 
the  consciousness  of  beauty  and  sublimity,  are  neutral- 
ized. This  sort  of  antagonism  is  felt  especially  in  the 
perusal  of  the  Apocalypse,  which,  even  when  the 
scenery  it  describes  is  constituted  of  objects  that  are 
in  themselves  the  most  proper  for  poetic  treatment, 
yet  fails  entirely  to  give  pleasure  on  that  ground. 
These  exhibitions  of  celestial  splendours,  or  of  infernal 
terrors,  carry  with  them  another  intention  ;  and  that 
this  intention  may  be  secured,  they  quell  or  dissipate 
those  emotions  which  poetry  is  always  aiming  to  excite. 
An  instance  presents  itself  in  the  chapter  (xxxvii.) 
of  Ezekicl  in  ^\■hich  the  Prophet  brings  into  view,  with 
vividness,  the  scene  and  circumstance  symbolically  of  a 
national  resurrection.  He  brings  into  view  the  valley 
of  blanched  skeletons  -the  tremors  in  these  heaps  of 
bones — the  clustering  of  limbs — the  coming  on  of 
muscle  and  skin  to  each — and  the  sudden  starting  to 
their  feet  of  an  array  of  warriors.*     The  painter  here 

*  JRohur,  vis,  foriitudo,  viaxhne  bellica ;  exercitus.     Gesenius.     This 
seems  the  proper  force  of  the  Hebrew  word.     The  Greek  says  only 

ovvayDyfi :  wliich  is  Icss  than  the  meaning. 


216  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

miolit  be  tempted  to  try  his  art  upon  a  large  canvas, 
and  might  do  better  in  such  an  attempt  tlian  the  poet 
could,  unless  he  availed  himself  of  other  materials,  and 
put  quite  out  of  view  the  emblematic  significance  which 
Ezekiel  puts  forwaj'd,  when  he  says — "These  bones 
are  the  whole  house  of  Israel."  The  same  principle 
takes  eftect  in  the  instance  of  the  vision  (chap,  viii.)  of 
the  chamber  of  idol-worship,  and  the  worshi[)pers,  and 
the  cloud  of  incense:  a  fine  subject  for  learned  art, 
much  rather  so  than  for  poetry. 

No  vein  of  poetr}-,  not  even  a  single  incidental  recol- 
lection of  the  Hebrew  imaginative  soul,  makes  its 
appearance  in  the  book  of  Daniel.  Plainly  historical, 
for  the  greater  part — its  i)rophetic  portions — its  revela- 
tions^ are  of  that  order  which,  as  we  have  said,  is  the 
extreme  antithesis  of  poetry.  The  entire  class  of  allu- 
sive conveyances  of  a  meaning  differing  from  the  obvi- 
ous or  literal  meaning  of  the  terms  employed,  includes 
allegories,  emblems,  proverbial  phrases,  and  most  varie- 
ties of  wit  ;  and  these,  all,  are  distasteful  to  those  in 
w^hom  the  genuine  poetic  feeling  is  in  force.  True  poetry 
needs  no  interpreter  ;  for  if  its  figures,  its  very  boldest 
metaphors,  its  most  startling  comparisons,  do  not  inter- 
pret themselves  instcintaneotishj^  it  must  be  either 
because  the  poet,  mistaking  his  function,  has  wrapped 
himself  in  myths,  or  because  the  reader  wants  the 
poetic  sense. 

The  seventy  years'  captivity — the  demolition  of  the 
Holy  City — the  brenking  up  of  the  Temple  service — 
the  ravaging,  and  the  laying  waste  of  the  country,  and 
its  occupation  by  a  heathen  vagabond  population — all 
these  events  concurred  in  bringing  to  an  end  the  Hebrew 
poetic  consciousness:  thenceforward  the  Jewish  people 


HEBREW    POETRY.  217 

— the  gathered  survivors  of  the  long  expatriation — 
became  prosaic  wholly,  historic  only  : — they  became,  as 
a  nation,  such  as  sliould  render  them  the  fit  recipi- 
ents and  teachers  of  that  next  coming  Revelation  which, 
because  it  was  to  demand  a  hearing  from  all  people,  and 
to  hivite  the  submission  of  the  reason,  lays  a  foundation 
171  the  rigid  historic  mood,  which,  though  it  may  admit 
symbols,  rejects  Poetry.  A  glance  at  the  onward  pro- 
gress of  this  transition,  of  wdiich  the  Jewish  people 
Avere  the  immediate  subjects,  may  properly  be  had,  at 
this  place,  and  before  we  look  back  upon  the  Prophetic 
Period — to  take  our  leave  of  it. 

In  following  the  course  of  the  national  religious  litera- 
ture downwards,  from  the  times  of  the  last  of  the  Pro- 
phets, it  is  a  wonder  to  find  how  rarely — if  indeed  at  all 
— a  sense  of  the  beauty  of  nature,  or  any  sentiment  allied 
to  poetic  feeling,  comes  to  the  surface  in  that  literature. 
In  truth  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  evidence  of  its  exist- 
ence, or  of  its  survivance,  in  the  Jewish  temperament. 
The  books  designated  as  Apocryphal,  and  which  are 
unknown  to  the  Hebrew  Canon,  are,  some  of  them,  no 
doubt,  of  a  time  not  much  more  than  a  century  later 
than  that  of  the  closing  of  the  Old  Testament  Scrip- 
tures. N^evertheless  they  are  of  another  order,  in  a 
literary  sense ;  and  they  indicate  the  supervention  of 
another  mood  of  the  national  mind.  In  explanation  of 
the  difference  (the  fact  of  Insjnratioti  is  not  now^  before 
us)  it  would  not  suffice  to  say  that  the  period  within 
which  these  Apocryphal  books  appeared  was  a  continu- 
ous era  of  social  and  political  confusion,  and  of  extreme 
suffering,  and  therefore  unfavourable  to  tlie  poetic  mood, 
for  the  same  might  be  affirmed  concerning  tliose  times  in 
which  the  Hebrew  poetry  shone  with  its  briglitest  lustre. 

10 


218  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

But  aiiotlier  mind  had  at  length  come  upon  the  Jew- 
hh  people,  or  upon  very  many  of  them;  the  miseries  of 
the  captivity  had  taken  due  effect  upon  them,  and  so  the 
apostolic  word  had  had  its  exemplification — "  No  afflic- 
tion seemeth  for  the  present  joyous,  but  grievous  ;  yet 
afterwards  it  yieldeth  the  peaceable  fruits  of  I'ighteous- 
ness  to  them  that  are  exercised  thereby."  Idol-worship, 
in  all  its  vanity  and  its  frightful  gorgeousness,  had  been 
witnessed  in  its  home,  in  the  broad  places  of  Babylon  ; 
and  this  spectacle  had  thoroughly  sickened  the  better- 
taught  men  of  Jerusalem  of  their  own  infatuation 
towards  polytheism ;  it  was  so  that  they  now  loathed 
and  contemned  the  sensual  worships  which  themselves 
and  their  fathers,  with  a  fatal  perversity,  had  hankered 
after.  Xot  only  was  idol-worship  spurned,  but  the 
national  sufferings,  and  the  demolition  of  their  cit}^,  and 
the  cessation  of  their  own  worship,  were  at  length  under- 
stood in  this  sense  as  a  Divine  chastisement : — the  punish- 
jnent  was  accepted,  the  national  ruin  was  meekly  sub- 
mitted to,  and  thenceforward  a  new  religious  life  was 
inaugurated  among  them,  and  for  a  length  of  time  it 
was  nobly  maintained. 

The  national  repentance,  if  not  universal,  had,  no 
doubt,  been  real  in  more  than  a  few  instances.  Evi- 
dence of  this  renovated  religious  feeling  is  found  in  that 
book  (Baruch)  which,  among  the  Apocryj)hal  writings^ 
comes  the  nearest  to  a  style  that  might  substantiate  its 
claim  to  be  included  in  the  Canon.  A  bright  monument 
is  this  book  of  a  people's  mood  while  enduring,  in  exile, 
the  contempts  and  the  oppressions  of  barbarian  tyranny  : 
—  penitent — submissive  to  the  tyrant  who  was  regarded 
as  the  instrument  of  the  Divine  Justice;  and  while  sub- 


HEBREW    POETRY.  219 

missive,  yet  hopeful.*  The  return  of  tlie  afflicted  Jew- 
ish people  to  its  duty  and  to  its  office,  as  witness  among 
the  nations  for  truth  in  Keligion,  was  a  preparation  for 
that  coming  time  when,  with  heroic  constancy,  they  con- 
tended for  their  national  and  religious  existence  against 
the  two  neighbouring  monarchies — the  Syrian  especially. 
But  this  season  of  doubtful  conflict  was  a  time  of  stern 
earnestness  among  the  people,  and  would  not  be  favour- 
able to  a  sjjonta?ieoiis  development  of  the  Poetic  feeling; 
besides,  the  men  of  the  captivity  found,  on  their  return 
to  their  country,  that  they  had  sustained  an  irretrievable 
loss — the  loss  of  their  language.  Instead  of  it,  a  dialect 
had  come  into  use  which  was  incapable  of  giving  ntter- 
ance  to  thought  and  feeling  of  this  order :  it  was  itself 
of  heterogeneous  composition  : — it  had  been  the  pro- 
duct, not  of  a  nation's  mind,  but  of  its  calamities  : — in 
all  its  deviations  from  the  ancient  forms  it  bore  testi- 
mony to  the  facts  of  subjugation,  expatriation,  and  of 
the  influx  of  corrupt  populations  ;  besides  that  in  itself 

*  Tlie  book  of  Baruch  stands  alone  among  the  books  of  the  Apo- 
crj'pha,  and  should  be  read — religiously,  and  read  historically ;  and  in 
this  sense  especially  the  appended  Epistle  of  Jeremiah,  which,  genuine 
or  not  so,  has  a  graphic  distinctness  in  its  exposure  of  the  folly  of  the 
Babylonian  worships,  exceeding  what  is  found  in  the  parallel  passages 
in  Isaiah.  The  writer  undoubtedly  had  seen  the  things  of  which  he 
speaks  :  he  so  speaks  as  those  among  ourselves  are  wont  to  speak  who, 
with  English  religious  feeling,  walk  about  in  the  towns  and  cities  of 
southern  Europe.  With  a  homely  contempt,  and  vivacious  satire,  the 
writer  of  this  Epistle  says — what  now  might  find  a  place  in  a  Protes- 
tant journal  of  a  tour  in  Italy  or  Spain  : — "  For  as  a  scarecrow  in  a 
garden  of  cucumbers  keepeth  nothing,  so  are  their  gods  of  wood,  and 
laid  over  with  silver  and  gold  .  .  .  they  light  them  candles,  j'ea  more 
than  for  themselves,  whereof  they  (these  gods)  cannot  see  one  .... 
their  faces  are  black  tlirough  the  smoke  that  cometh  out  of  the  tem- 
ple." 


220  THE    SPIKIT    OF    THE 

it  was  harsh,  iiiiinelodious,  defective  ;  it  was  the  verna- 
cular of  the  busy  population  of  vast  plains,  and  of  crowd- 
ed cities. 

During  the  same  periods  not  only  had  the  rich  and 
copious  and  metonymic  Hebrew  given  way  to  the  rug- 
ged Aramaic  (not  more  poetic  as  related  to  Hebrew 
than  the  Dutch  language  is  as  related  to  the  English), 
but  another  inroad  w^as  rapidly  taking  its  course — as 
throughout  western  Asia,  so  not  less  in  Palestine  than 
around  it — namely,  that  of  the  Greek  language :  at 
first  prevalent  as  an  upper  class  or  governing  tongue, 
and  at  length,  in  the  apostolic  age,  as  the  ordinary  popu- 
lar medium  of  discourse.  But  then  this  importation  of 
the  language  of  Greece  by  no  means  brought  with  it 
the  taste  or  the  j^oetry  of  Greece,  any  more  than,  in  any 
genuine  sense,  it  brought  its  philosophy.  Greek,  as  the 
language  of  literature,  came  in  upon  the  Jewish  mind, 
not  to  enlarge'it^  not  to  enrich  it,  but  as  a  sophistication. 
Evidence  to  this  effect  is  largely  before  us  in  the  extant 
compositions  of  that  time — in  the  Apocryphal  books,  and 
in  the  pages  of  Philo  and  Joscphus.  The  Jewish  mind 
of  that  time  had  weaned  itself  from  the  Hebrew  breast, 
and  it  was  imbibing,  instead,  a  nutriment  which,  to  itself, 
could  never  be  a  "  sincere  milk,"  easily  assimilated,  and 
promoting  its  growth.  The  Greek  philosophy  did  not 
make  Jewish  Rabbis  philosophers,  any  more  than  Homer 
and  Sophocles  had  made  them  poets.  Thus  it  was  that, 
between  the  Aramaic  barbarism  which  poetry  and  philo- 
sophy alike  would  resent,  and  the  Grecian  high  culture, 
which  the  Jewish  mind  was  not  prepared  to  admit, 
13oetry  entirely  disappeared  from  the  literature  of  the 
people :  and  as  to  philosophy,  it  lodged  itself  upon 
the  upper  surface — like   honseleek   upon  the  tiles  of  a 


HEBREW    POETRY.  221 

buiUliuLi-,  into  wliicli  it  can  strike  no  roots,  and  wiiicli 
lives  and  grows  wliere  it  lodges,  fattened  upon  no 
other  soil  than  that  supplied  by  its  own  decayed 
foliage. 

The  meditative  Jewish  mood — such  as  it  exhibits 
itself  in  the  book  of  the  "  \Yisdom  of  the  Son  of  Sirach" 
— not  wanting  in  ethical  value,  or  in  epigrammatic 
force,  is  yet  only  a  groping  wisdom.  The  sage  sees  not 
more  than  a  glimmer  of  light  upon  earth;  and  he  barely 
lifts  his  eyes  aloft  toward  the  heavens; — the  light  of 
immortality  does  not  send  down  one  cheering  beam 
upon  those  dim  pages;  and  it  must  have  been  from 
other  sources  than  from  these  quaint  indeterminate 
compositions  that  the  strenuous  martyrs  of  the  time  of 
Antiochus  Epiphanes  drew  their  courage  in  contending 
to  the  death  for  the  faith  and  hope  of  the  nation. 

In  the  course  of  not  more  years  than  those  which 
divide  ourselves  from  the  era  of  the  Reformation,  the 
Jewish  mind  had  quite  fallen  away  from  what  might  be 
called  its  Poetic  Mood.  No  writings  of  that  order — 
that  we  know — had  been  produced  in  Judiea.  The 
Rabbis  only — and  probably  it  was  a  few  only  of  these 
— weve  familiarly  conversant  with  the  archaic  national 
language.  A  cumbrous,  circuitous,  and  often  a  soj^histi- 
cative  mode  of  commenting  upon  the  Prophets,  and  of 
darkening  their  meaning,  had  taken  the  place  of  what 
might  have  been  a  nutritious  popular  instruction.  In  so 
far — and  there  is  reason  to  think  it  was  very  far — as 
the  Greek  version  had  come  to  be  used  instead  of  the 
Hebrew  Scriptures,  in  the  weekly  service  of  the  Syna- 
gogue, such  a  substitution  would  have  the  effect  of 
removing,  to  a  remote  distance,  thatpoetic  consciousness 
to  which  the  Inspired  Prophets  liad  been  used  to  make 


222  THE    SPIKIT    OF    THE 

their  appeal.*  The  version  of  the  Seventy  is  bald, 
prosaic,  and  wanting  in  rhythm,  as  well  as  majesty.  It 
had,  indeed,  carried  a  substantial  knowledge  of  truth 
far  and  wide  among  the  nations  ;  but  it  had  so  carried 
these  elenients  as  if,  while  leaving  behind  the  graces  of 
the  Hebrew  Poetry,  and  failing  to  take  up  the  graces  of 
the  Greek  Poetry,  it  would  commend  the  grave 
l^rinciples  of  Theistic  doctrine  to  the  Gentile  world, 
strii3ped  of  all  attractions  except  those  of  a  severe 
reality. 

Such  was  the  preparation  that  had  been  made,  in 
Judaea  itself,  and  throughout  the  surrounding  countries, 
for  the  advent  of  Oxe  whose  ministry  was  to  be  of 
another  order — a  fullilment  indeed  of  all  prophecy; 
but  an  awakening  of  the  nations  to  a  Revelation  which 
must  utter  itself  in  terms  the  most  concise,  and  the 
freest  from  ambiguity — in  terms  which,  statute-like, 
shall  not  only  easily  find  their  equivalents  in  all  tongues 
— barbarian  or  cultured,  and  not  only  maintain  their 
intelligible  quality  to  the  end  of  time,  but,  more  than 
this — such  as  shall  reappear  with  luminous  force  in  the 
courts  of  the  unseen  world,  when  and  where  all  men 
are  appointed  to  render  their  final  account.  There  can 
be  no  Poetry  in  the  Statute-Book  of  Universal  and 
Eternal  Right!  The  Hebrew  Poetry  had  been  the  free 
medium  of  the  Divine  communications  durinc^  acres 
w^hile  the  future  unseen  destinies  of  the  human  family, 
if  not  undetermined,  were  not  to  be  proclaimed.  Earth's 
own  voices,  earth's  harmonies  and  graces,  were  mute, 
and  had  long  been  mute,  when  He  should  appear  who 
is  "  from  above,"  and  whose  mission  it  was  to  institute 

*  See  Note. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  223 

a  now  lite — the  lite  eternal — tlie  lite  in  attestation  of 
wliieh  multitudes  were,  ere  long,  to  weleonie  deatli  on 
the  rack — in  the  ann)hitheatre,  and  in  the  fire. 

The  extant  memorials  of  the  early  Church — the 
martyr-Church — exhibit  few,  if  indeed  there  be  any, 
indications  of  the  revival  of  tliat  consciousness  of  the 
sublime  and  beautiful  m  Nature  which  had  been  so  long 
in  abeyance.  The  period  of  prepaiation  for  Christi- 
anity, and  the  subsequent  martyr  ages,  must  be  reck- 
oned to  hiclude  a  space  of  nearly  seven  hundred  years. 
It  was  not  until  long  after  the  conclusion  of  the  martyr 
time  that  this  consciousness  reappears  at  all  within  the 
field  of  Christian  literature.  When  therefore  it  is 
attempted  to  show  the  derivation  of  our  modern  poetic 
feeling  from  the  Hebrew  Scriptures,  the  attempt  would 
be  hopeless  to  establish  an  "  unbroken  succession,"  as  if 
the  flow  had  been  continuous.  That  river,  the  streams 
whereof,  making  glad  the  city  of  God,  sparkled  up  from 
the  Holy  Hill,  disappears  at  the  time  when  the  prophetic 
dispensation  comes  to  its  close ;  and  these  waters 
of  Siloam  then  found  for  themselves  an  underground 
conduit  alongside  of  the  lapse  of  many  centuries  ;  nor 
do  they  come  again  into  day  mitil  near  our  modern 
times. 

Assuredly  the  Rabbinical  writers  did  not  so  drink  of 
those  waters  as  to  receive  thence  a  poetic  inspiration ! 
These  grave,  learned,  laborious,  and  whimsical  doctors, 
had  so  used  themselves  to  converse  with  whatever  is 
less  important,  and  nugatory,  and  frivolous,  that  they 
had  become  incapable  of  apprehending  whatever,  in 
Nature,  or  in  life,  or  in  Holy  Scrij){iire,  is  great — 
beautiful — sublime  :  in  all  things  that  which  was 
factitious  or  arbitrary  had  fixed  the  eye  of  the  Rabbi, 


224  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

Avho  had  become  blind  to  the  majesty  of  the  creation. 
The  Prophets  were  men  who  lived  abroad — breathing 
the  air  of  the  hills  and  plains,  of  the  forests  and  of  tlie 
gardens  of  Palestine ;  but  their  commentators — the 
Talmiidists — were  men  of  the  cloister,  the  light  of 
which  Avas  dim,  and  its  atmosphere  dust-burdened  and 
sultry.  Imagination  of  a  sort  the  Rabl)i  might  boast ; 
but  it  was  prolific  of  monstrous  chimeras,  and  chose 
rather  the  prodigious  than  the  true.  Astute  more 
than  wise,  the  Jewish  masters  of  thought  groped 
along  a  path  abounding  in  thorns,  and  scanty  in 
fruits.* 

As  to  the  Cliristian  community — in  the  East  and 
the  West  alike — eager  theological  controversies  came- 
in  the  plaCe  of  suiferings.  Heresy,  instead  of  Pagan- 
ism, showed  itself,  even  more  than  imprisonments  and 
tortures,  to  be  out  of  accordance  with  the  spirit  of 
Poetry.  Christian  men — orthodox  and  heterodox  alike 
— had  passed  through  that  vast  intellectual  and  moral 
revolution  which  had  brought  with  it  the  consciousness 
of  Truth  in  Belief,  as  a  personal  concernment — incal- 
culably momentous.  With  this  feeling  of  individual 
relationship  to  God,  on  terms  to  Avhich  an  abstract 
scheme  of  theology  was  to  give  its  sanction,  the  dialectic 
Reason  came  to  be  invoked,  and  was  brought  into  ])lay 
continually ;  and  the  style  of  this  controversial  reason 
is  always  strenuous,  harsh,  and  nnmelodious.  The  con- 
troversial mood,  full  of  disquietudes,  and  of  evil  sur- 
misings,  and  of  angry  imputations,  is  the  very  opposite 
of  the  discursive,  imaginative,  poetic  temper.  No  con- 
dition of  the  human  mind  shows  a  front  so  repulsive 

*  See  Note. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  225 

to  taste  aiul  feeling  ns  does  tlie  lo^ieal  mood,  witli  its 
formal  egotism,  and  its  intoleranee.  Tliis  temper  of 
earnest  wrangling  (albeit  for  tlic  right)  is  death  to 
imaginative,  as  well  as  to  tlie  moral,  sensibility.  For 
eenturies  it  seemed  as  if  men,  in  eontending  for  the 
Trutli  of  God,  had  qnite  ceased  to  see  or  to  know  that 
the  world  Ave  live  in  is  beautifnl,  and  that  the  universe 
is  great. 

There  was  a  season  in  the  growth  of  the  Ascetic 
Institute — dating  its  rise  in  the  Decian  persecution — 
in  tlie  lapse  of  which  there  may  be  traced  much  of 
the  spirit  of  Itomance,  and  something  of  the  spirit  of 
Poetry.  A  conception  of  romance,  if  not  of  poetry, 
one  might  believe  to  have  inspired,  even  tlie  crabbed 
and  dogmatic  Jerome,  Avhen  he  put  together,  for  popu- 
lar use,  the  prodigious  legends  concerning  the  ascetic 
heroes — St.  Paul  the  Monk,  St.  Hilarion,  and  St.  Mal- 
chus,  and  others  of  the  sort.  It  is  certain,  as  to  Palla- 
dius,  and  the  compilers  of  the  Lausiac  ]\[emoirs,  that 
they  had  caught  a  feeling  of  the  sublime,  if  not  of 
the  beautiful,  in  Nature  ;  and  the  terms  in  which  they 
speak  of  the  horrors  of  the  bladeless  wilderness  suggest 
the  idea  that  the  complementary  conception  of  what  is 
gay  and  beautiful,  from  the  neighbourhood  of  which  the 
heroic  anchoret  fled  fjxr,  was  not  quite  absent  from 
their  thoughts.  These  writers,  in  their  encomiums  of 
what  might  be  called — spirituality  run  savage,  betray 
their  own  consciousness,  and  that  of  their  heroes,  of 
those  decorations  of  the  material  world  upon  which 
they  dared  not  look  :  wliatever  was  fair,  bright,  gay, 
joyous,  in  creation  was  contraband  in  the  ascetic  phi- 
losophy ;  nevertheless  some  of  those  who  signalized  their 
zeal   in   denouncing  these  graces  of  Xature  gave   evi- 

10^ 


226  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

deuce,  obliquely,  of  the  strength  of  their  own  forbidden 
feeling  towards  them. 

In  many  instances  the  Christian  solitary  was  a  man 
of  culture,  who,  in  sincerity,  had  fled  from  the  abound- 
ing corruptions  of  cities,  with  their  Christianized  pagan- 
ism— and  who,  when  he  had  well  nestled  himself  in 
his  cavern,  and  had  learned  a  lesson,  not  extremely 
difficult,  in  a  warm  climate,  how  to  exist  and  be  content 
in  the  destitution  of  the  appliances  of  artificial  life,  and 
had  come  to  draw  spiritual  nutriment  from  every  misery, 
would  return  to  his  early  tastes,  and  would  follow  that 
leading  of  jdIous  meditation  Avhich  finds  its  path  from 
the  Avorship  of  God,  the  Creator,  to  the  manifestation 
of  the  Divine  attributes  in  the  Creation.  No  wilder- 
ness in  Avhich  man  may  exist  is  absolutely  bladeless :  no 
solitude  can  be  wanting  in  the  elements  of  sublimity,  if 
it  be  skirted  by  purple  and  jagged  rocks,  which  outline 
themselves  sharply  against  a  cloudless  azure  by  day, 
and  against  the  curtain  of  stars  by  night.  AVhen  once 
the  genuine  relish  of  natural  beauty  has  been  engen- 
dered, the  rule  will  be — or  often  it  will  be — the  fewer 
the  objects  on  which  it  feeds,  the  more  intense,  the  more 
concentrated,  will  be  the  feeling  they  excite.  The 
shrivelled  grass — the  thorny  shrub — the  scanty  rush, 
Avill  prove  themselves  to  be  fraught  with  all  poetry; 
and  then  fertile  devout  meditation  will  feast  itself  upon 
these  crumbs  of  the  beautiful — even  as  the  life-long 
tenant  of  a  dungeon  leai-ns  to  satisfy  the  social  instincts 
of  humanity  in  tending  a  s})ider. 

Far  more  of  what,  with  our  modern  tastes,  we  should 
admit  to  be  true  poetic  feeling,  here  and  there  makes 
its  appearance  upon  the  rugged  surface  of  the  ancient 
asceticism,  than  we  can  find  in  the  factitious  versifica- 


HEBREW    POETRY.  227 

tion  of  some  of  the  great  Church-writers  of  tlie  same 
time  — eastern  or  western.  Such  spontaneous  a(hM-n- 
ments  of  the  ascetic  Ufe,  if  com})are(l  witli  tlie  lahoured 
poetry — so  called,  of  Gregory  Xazianzen  or  of  Ambrose, 
miglit  suggest  a  comparison  between  tlie  rich  mosses, 
with  a  hundred  hues — that  embossed  tlie  rocks  aroun<l 
the  hermit's  cavern — and  tlie  dazzle  and  the  glare  of 
the  nuirbles  and  jewellery  of  the  basihcas  of  the  imperial 
city. 

Grotesque,  more  than  poetic,  are  those  romances  in 
the  composition  of  wliich  Jerome  (as  we  have  said) 
beguiled  his  leisure  at  Bethlehem,  and  abused  the  credu- 
Hty  of  his  contemporaries.  But  another  style  meets  us 
when  we  look  into  the  correspondence  of  the  accom- 
plished and  spiritually  voluptuous  Basil — an  ascetic 
indeed  who,  while  maintaining  his  repute  as  a  saint — 
not  falsely,  but  fiictitiously — knew  how,  in  his  retreat 
on  the  banks  of  the  Iris,  to  surround  himself  with  rural 
enjoyments  which  might  have  been  envied  by  the 
younger  Pliny,  in  his  villa  on  the  margin  of  the  lake  of 
Conio.* 

It  does  not  appear — or  the  evidence  to  that  effect  is 
not  at  hand,  showing — how  far  the  Psalms  of  David, 
rich  as  they  are  in  poetic  feeling,  availed  to  nourish 
a  kindred  feeling  within  the  monastic  conmiunities. 
Through  the  lapse  of  a  thousand  years — dating  back 
from  the  time  of  the  revival  of  literature  in  Italy — the 
Psalter  had  so  been  rolled  over  the  lips  of  monks, 
morning,  noon,  and  night,  in  inane  repetitions,  as  must 
have  deprived  these  odes  of  almost  all  meaning — spi- 
ritual or  intellectual.     Let  the  modern  reader  imagine 

*  See  Note. 


228  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


wluxt  would  1)0  tlie  effect  upon  himself  of  repeating  the 
Imiidred  and  lifty  Psalms,  entire — romid  the  year,  fifty 
times  or  more ! 

But  the  waking  hour  of  the  European  mind  came  on  ; 
our  modern  consciousness  toward  Nature,  as  well  as  Art, 
sprang  into  existence  ;  and  along  with  this  renovation 
of  the  Tastes,  as  well  as  of  the  Reason  of  the  western 
nations,  there  came  the  diffusion,  and  the  restored  influ- 
ence of  the  Inspired  w^ritings.  Thenceforward  this 
mighty  influence,  which  was  at  once  a  force  and  a 
[/iiidance^  took  its  way  alongside  of  the  recovered  clas- 
sical literature  ;  and  the  two  powers — the  sacred  and 
the  profane — went  on  commingling  their  energies  in 
those  various  portions  which  have  given  nationality  to 
the  literature,  distinctively,  of  Italy,  of  England,  of 
France,  and  of  Germany.* 

*  tsee  Xote. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 
THE  millenniu:m  of  the  Hebrew  toetry,  and  the 

PRINCIPLE   WHICH    PERVADES    IT. 

There  is  presupposed  in  tlie  phrase  wliich  has  been 
used  as  tlie  title  of  tins  volume,  an  idea  of  unity  or 
continuity,  as  belonging  to  the  Hebrew  Poetry.  We 
speak  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Hebrew  Poetry,  and  in  thus 
speaking  a  meaning  is  conveyed  to  this  effect — that 
there  is  a  oneness  of  intention,  or  a  constant  principle, 
or  a  prominent  characteristic,  which  may  be  recognized 
throughout,  and  which  attaches,  more  or  less  decisively 
to  each  writer,  in  a  long  series — connecting  the  whole, 
and  imparting  to  the  mass  a  high  degree  of  consistency 
and  of  homogeneousness.  The  Hebrew  Poetry,  from 
its  earliest  era  to  its  last  day,  stands  in  view  as  a  One 
Poetry. 

This  averment  in  its  behalf  means  something  more 
than  this — which  might  as  well  be  affirmed  of  the 
Poetry  of  Greece,  or  of  that  of  Persia,  or  of  Rome — 
that  it  is  the  literature  of  one  people  or  race,  and  of  a 
people  strongly  marked  with  the  peculiarities  of  their 
national  mood  of  mind,  and  of  their  habits,  and  their 
reiiiiious  notions  and  usag^es.  More  than  this  must  be 
intended  to  be  affirmed  when  we  so  speak  of  the  litera- 
ture of  the  Hebrews,  and  we  must  mean  what  would  best 
be  made  intelligible  by  the  hypothesis  that,  in  the  midst 
of  these  manv  and  diverse  voices — each  utterinsi;  itself 


230  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

after  its  own  fashion,  and  following  each  other  throngli 
the  lapse  of  more  tlian  a  thousand  years — thei-e  is 
heard  tlie  mind  and  feeling  of  One,  who  is  unchange- 
able in  disposition  and  principle — the  same  yesterday, 
and  to-day,  and  in  all  time.  This,  undoubtedly,  is 
the  hypothesis  on  the  ground  of  whicli  we  accept  the 
books  of  the  Canonical  Scriptures,  as  given  by  the  Inspi- 
ration of  God — in  a  sense  peculiar  to  themselves.  But 
just  now  let  this  hypothesis  (unquestionably  true  as 
it  is)  be  set  apart,  or  removed  from  our  view.  That 
which  remains,  after  this  abeyance  of  the  belief  of 
Inspiration  has  been  effected,  is  a  congeries  of  facts 
of  such  a  kind  that  they  must  compel  an  immediate 
return  to  that  belief,  apart  from  which  these  facts  can 
receive  no  solution  whatever. 

So  fjamiliar  are  the  topics  involved  in  this  argument 
that  the  reader  who  is  well  used  to  his  Bible  may 
believe  that  he  fully  apprehends  them :  and  it  may  be 
so  ;  and  yet  it  is  not  so  with  many  who,  following  the 
daily  routine  of  Scripture  lessons  in  the  track  of  the 
misadjusted  order  (which  in  a  chronological  sense  is 
disorder)  of  the  Old  Testament  books,  fail  to  perceive, 
or  fail  to  recollect,  that,  in  passing  from  one  Psalm  to 
the  next,  or  from  one  Prophet  to  the  next,  they  may 
have  spanned  a  five  hundred,  or  even  a  thousand  years; 
and  moreover  that  they  have  made  this  leap  in  a  retro- 
grade direction : — as,  for  instance,  when  an  ode  later 
dated  than  the  Captivity,  is  followed  by  one  which  is 
earlier  dated  than  the  Exodus.  These  anachronisms  of 
our  modern  Bibles  take  possession  of  our  minds  in  a 
disadvantageoijs  manner,  and  stand  in  the  way  of  clear 
nnd  firmly  held  convictions  concerning  the  historic 
reality  of  the   series  of  events.      If  the   English  Ian- 


HEBREW    POETRY.  231 

guagc,  in  a  tbousand  years,  had  undergone  as  little 
ebange  as  did  the  Hebrew  language  in  that  time,  and 
if  we  were  to  read,  in  constant  niislocation,  passages 
of  Cowper  and  of  Chaucer,  or  of  Milnian  and  Bede, 
it  would  demand  a  very  frequent  reference  to  the  dates 
of  our  literature  to  dispel  the  chronological  confusions 
that  would  beset  us. 

The  degree  of  uniformity  or  bomogeneousness  in  the 
literature  of  a  peoi)le,  which  might  easily  be  regarded 
as  probable,  on  common  principles,  would  be  of  this 
kind — first,  there  is  the  same  language  throughout, 
with  diversities  of  dialect  only ;  and  there  might  be  the 
same  metrical  or  rhythmical  system ;  then  we  should 
find  the  same  figurative  material — related  as  this  would 
be  to  the  climate  and  the  country ;  and  we  might  also 
find  the  same  theology  and  ethics — or  nearly  the  same 
— as  well  as  allusions  to  nearly  the  same  political  and 
social  institutions.  Prevalent  as  these  characteristics 
might  be,  and  enduring  as  might  be  their  influence,  it 
is  not  to  be  imagined  that  a  series  of  writers,  represent- 
ing the  national  history  through  so  long  a  term  as  more 
than  a  thousand  years,  should  fiiil  to  exhibit  great  diver 
sities  on  such  grounds  as  these,  namely — (1)  The  indi 
vidual  disposition  and  intellectual  disparities  of  the 
writers  (this  must  be  even  if  they  were  all  nearly  con- 
temporaries and  fellow-citizens).  (2)  The  varying  posi- 
tion of  these  writers,  as  belonging  to,  or  as  representing 
the  several  orders  and  interests  in  the  commonwealth. 
(3)  The  influence  upon  each  writer  of  those  marked 
changes  in  the  habits  and  dispositions  of  a  people  from 
which  no  people,  hitherto,  has  been  exempt — or  not 
exempt  if  many  centuries  of  their  history  are  to  be 
included.     In  these  senses  uniform,  and  in  these  senses 


232  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


also  diverse,  the  literature — or  say,  the  poetry — of  a 
one  peo])le  may  be  accepted  as  the  product  of  causes 
the  operation  of  which  is  intelligible. 

The  Hebrew  writers  do  in  fact  exhibit  much  diversity 
in  the  several  respects  above  named  : — individually  they 
differ — each  has  his  manner  : — differences  also  are  per- 
ceptible among  them  arising  from  their  social  position, 
as  of  the  sacerdotal  class,  or  of  other  classes: — dif- 
ferences also  there  are  the  distinctness  of  which  is 
sufHcient,  in  several  instances,  to  support  an  inference 
as  to  the  place  in  the  national  history  to  which  each 
Avriter  belongs.  Yet  in  this  last-named  respect  tlie 
differences  are  far  from  being  such  as,  on  ordinary 
principles,  might  seem  likely  to  arise  from  the  greatness 
of  those  changes  through  which  the  Hebrew  race  had 
passed  in  this  lapse  of  time.  These  changes  embrace 
the  most  extreme  and  peculiar  conditions  under  which 
a  people  may  at  all  conserve  its  continuous  identity; 
for  the  fortunes  of  this  people  went  the  round  of 
national  well-doino^  and  of  disaster.  Not  to  c^o  back  to 
the  patriartilial  age,  although  then  this  poetry  had  had 
its  commencement,  the  Hebrew  lyre  gave  evidence  of  a 
long  and  well-skilled  practice  at  the  very  moment  when 
the  race,  in  tumultuous  excitement,  stood,  ransomed 
and  astounded,  upon  the  eastern  margin  of  the  Red 
Sea.  The  training  of  the  people  who,  with  their 
Leader,  there  sang  the  song  of  triumph  unto  Jehovah 
(Exodus  XV.)  had  been  such  a  schooling  in  music,  and 
in  recitative  worship,  as  might  be  carried  on  in  the 
house  of  bondage,  and  while  the  tribes,  in  severest  ser- 
vitude, were  labouring  under  the  sun  in  the  brickfields 
of  Pharaoh.  Yet  it  was  then  and  there  that  this  pecu- 
liar function  of  the  Israelitish  race  made  its  bold  essav 


HEBREW    POETRY.  233 

of  power.  This  lyre,  attuned  on  the  hanks  of  the  Xile, 
did  its  offiee  until  the  moment  of  sadness  came — :i 
tliousand  years  later,  for  leaving  it  to  sigli  in  the  winds 
by  the  rivers  of  Babylon.  Frequent  notes  of  this  same 
lyre  give  proof  tliat  the  tent-life  of  the  terrible  wilder- 
ness had  not  put  it  to  silence;  and  at  the  time  when 
these  wanderings  were  to  cease,  strains  burst  anew  from 
its  wires  of  suri)assing  majesty  (Dent,  xxxiii.)  It  might 
seem  as  if  rhythm,  and  music,  and  l)old  imagery,  so 
floated  in  the  air  far  around  the  camp  of  God,  that  even 
the  folse-hearted  prophet,  when  he  looked  down  upon  it 
from  "  the  high  places  of  Baal,"  caught  the  same  rhythm 
and  the  same  fire.* 

Throughout  the  precarious  times  of  the  Judges — a 
three  centuries  or  more — when  everywhere  within  the 
borders  of  Israel,  often — 

the  highways  were  deserted, 
And  the  travellers  walked  through  by-ways : 
The  villages  ceased — they  ceased  in  Israel; 

— even  through  those  dark  years  of  almost  national 
extinction,  the  energies  of  sacred  song  did  not  decline. 
The  ruddy  youth  of  Bethlehem  found  poetry  and  music 
— one  divine  art — ready  for  his  hand,  and  for  his  voice, 
and  for  his  soul ;  and  his  Psalms  are  vouchers  for  a  fact 
so  well  deserving  notice,  that  neither  the  sweetness  of 
these  tones,  nor  their  depth,  nor  their  grandeur,  were  in 
any  manner  affected,  for  the  worse,  by  the  changeful 
fortunes  of  the  man.  It  is  the  same  soul,  graceful  and  ten- 

*  Tt  belongs  to  another  line  of  argument  to  note  the  fact  that 
Balaam's  reluctant  prophecy  was — "  The  word  put  into  his  mouth  by 
God,"  (Xumbors  xxiii.) 


234  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

dor,  even  when  it  is  the  most  inipnssioned,  which  utters 
itself,  whether  tlie  poet  be  the  leader  of  a  band  of  out- 
laws in  the  rugged  wilderness,  or  the  anointed  of  the 
Lord,  with  tens  of  thousands  of  warriors  at  his  side. 

The  Israelitish  monarchy,  tlirough  another  long  era — 
a  five  hundi-ed.  years — underwent  seasonsof  fiery  trial  in 
its  alternations  of  power  and  splendour,  and  of  decay 
and  subjugation,  and  almost  of  extinction  ;  and  these 
revolutions  in  the  political  and  social  condition  of  the 
people  were  enough — were  more  than  enough — under 
ordinary  conditions,  to  bring  about  an  absolute  loss,  or 
final  disappearance  of  tlie  poetic  feelhig — the  poetic 
habitude,  and  even  of  the  rhythmical  art — the  metrical 
practice^  among  a  people.  The  people  of  Greece  lost 
the  soul  of  poetry  within  as  short  a  time,  and  under  con- 
ditions much  less  severe. 

But  there  was  a  vitality  in  the  Hebrew  Poetry  which 
preserved  it  from  decay  through  these  eleven  centuries 
of  national  fortunes  and  reverses.  There  was  a  prin- 
ciple within  it  which  resisted  every  influence  that  might 
have  wrought  upon  it,  either  to  abate  its  tone,  or  to  alter 
and  vitiate  its  moral  and  religious  import.  Not  only  did 
this  poetry  last  out  its  destined  millennium,  but,  with  a 
robust  persistence — with  a  fixed  and  resolute  consis- 
tency— it  continued  to  vindicate  the  same  moral  axioms, 
and  to  denounce,  in  the  same  terms  of  inexorable  rebuke, 
the  vices  of  mankind  at  large,  and  the  corruptions  of 
the  one  people  in  particular.  Amidst  the  varying  moods 
of  a  ])assionate  people,  this  millennial  utterance  docs 
not  vary  by  a  shade  from  its  pristine  theology,  or  its 
pristine  ethics.  Do  we  please  to  call  this  theology 
"unphilosophic?" — if  it  was  so  in  its  earliest  forms,  it 
continued  to  be  such  in  its  latest  forms — notwithstand- 


HEBREW    POETRY.  235 

ing  the  tendency  of  religious  tliouglit,  always  and 
everywhere,  to  sophisticate  its  notions,  and  to  comi)li- 
catc  its  phraseology,  in  the  direction,  on  the  one  hand, 
toward  mysticism ;  on  the  other  hand,  toward  vague, 
fruitless,  and  negative  abstractions.  Or  do  we  please  to 
say  that  this  Hebrew  morality  was  severe  and  uncom- 
promising ?  If  it  was  so  at  its  birth  in  the  glooms  of 
the  wilderness  of  Sinai — such  also  was  it  in  that  day  of 
sadness  when  the  triumphant  idolater  carried  "  of  the 
vessels  of  the  house  of  the  Lord  to  Babylon,  and  put 
them  in  his  temple  at  Babylon."  Or  if  we  say — and 
this  is  flir  nearer  to  the  truth — that  the  Hebrew  reli- 
gious system  rested,  peacefully,  upon  an  assured  belief 
of  the  graciousness  and  clemency  of  Jehovah ;  such  it 
was  at  the  first,  when  the  Eternal  proclaimed  Himself — 
"  the  Lord — the  Lord  God,  merciful  and  gracious,  long- 
suffering,  and  abundant  in  goodness  and  truth  ;"  so  was 
it  in  that  later  age  when  the  terms  of  the  divine  economy 
towards  manM^ere  to  be  repeated  in  form — "What  now 
doth  the  Lord  require  of  thee,  but  to  do  justly,  and  to 
love  mercy,  and  to  walk  humbly  with  thy  God." 

This  consistency — this  exemption  from  the  variable- 
ness that  attaches  always,  and  everywhere  else,  to  what- 
ever is  human — is  utterly  inconceivable  until,  for  its 
explanation,  we  bring  in  the  one  truth  that,  whoever 
might  be  the  Prophet  that  challenges  the  people  to  a 
hearing,  the  Speaker  is  ever  the  same — the  same  in 
mind  and  in  purpose  through  a  thousand  generations. 

That  first  principle  of  true  licligion — the  Personality 
of  God  (insufficient  and  unpleasing  are  all  phrases  of  this 
order  !) — this  principle  always  taught  and  affirmed  in  the 
Hebrew  Scriptures,  is  also  insensibly  conveyed  in  that 
mode  which — rather   than,    and   far   better   than,   any 


236  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

formal  affii-mation — gives  ns  our  consciousness  of  the 
individuality — the  separate  independent  personality  of 
those  around  us.  Whence  is  it,  in  fact,  that,  in  our 
evcry-day  converse  with  those  who  make  uj)  our  homes 
and  social  circles,  we  unconsciously  acquire  our  concep- 
tion of  the  disposition,  the  moods,  the  tastes,  the  consti- 
tutional fiiults  and  virtues,  and  the  mental  bulk  of  each 
and  all  ?  A  knowledge  of  character — a  knowledge  so 
important  to  every  one's  own  conduct — is  a  slowly 
derived  induction;  it  is  an  accretion  from  day  to  day, 
built  up  out  of  each  person's  casual  utterances  and 
incidental  discourse,  as  every  one  is  moved  or  provoked 
by  the  occurrences  of  the  passing  hour.  If  we  only 
hear  what  has  been  said  on  any  occasion,  we  know  who 
has  said  it: — the  utterance  is  index  of  the  person  ;  or  if 
a  single  utterance  be  not  sufficient  for  this  recognition, 
a  few,  taken  at  hazard,  will  not  fail  to  remove  any  doubt 
as  to  the  speaker.  It  is  the  same  as  to  our  feeling  of  the 
individuality  of  the  prominent  jiersons  of  history.  If 
memoirs  sufficient  are  extant — if  there  are  records  suffi- 
cient, of  the  sayings  and  the  doings  of  noted  persons, 
we  come  to  know  the  person^  thenceforward,  even  with 
a  distinctness  that  approaches  the  vivacity  of  actual 
acquaintance. 

If,  then,  we  accept  it  as  an  axiom  of  Biblical  science 
that  a  main  purpose  of  the  Old  Testament  Scriptures 
was  this — to  ingrain  upon  the  minds  of  men  this  vivid 
conception  of  God — the  one  Living  and  Ever-present 
Creator,  Ruler,  Father — then  it  is  seen  that  this  purpose 
has  been  secured  in  that  one  method  in  which  alone  it 
could  be  effected — namely,  by  the  record  of  utterances, 
each  related  to  some  occasion  of  the  time,  on  the  part 
of  Him  who  is  tints  to  be  made  known.    The  Speaker — 


HEBREW    POETRY.  287 

unchanging  in  disposition  and  in  ITis  principles  of  con- 
duet — utters  His  mind  by  a  direct  conveyance  of  it  in 
the  form — "  Tlius  saitli  the  Lord."  Century  after 
century,  through  all  the  shiftings  of  a  people's  weal,  and 
of  their  correspondence  with  their  neighbours,  God, 
their  God,  thus  utters  Ilis  mind.  Nothing  approaching 
to  this  vivid  revelation,  this  bringing  the  conception  of 
the  Person  home  to  the  consciousness  of  men,  has 
elsewhere  ever  taken  place :  it  is  the  peculiarity  of  the 
Hebrew  Scriptures. 

AVhy  should  the  Hebrew  testimony  concerning  the 
true  and  living  God — why  should  it  have  been  thrown 
into  the  poetic  mould  ? — why  should  this  theology  have 
been  made  to  flow  as  a  river  through  the  levels  of  time, 
reflecting,  as  it  passes,  the  objects  on  its  banks?  One 
might  speculate  to  little  purpose  in  attempting  an 
answer  to  this  question.  Meantime  the  fact  is  before 
us — the  Hebrew  Poetic  Prophecy  is  a  revealing  of  God, 
carried  on  through  a  millennium,  in  all  which  course  of 
time,  just  as  the  thunder  of  heaven  is  even-toned,  and  is 
always  like  itself  in  awful  grandeur,  and  is  unlike  other 
sounds  of  earth,  so  did  the  voice  of  the  Eternal  con- 
tinuously peal  over-head  of  the  chosen  people,  and  thus 
did  it  take  firm  possession  of  the  human  mind — which 
never,  thenceforward,  lost  its  consciousness  toward  God, 
as  a  MixD — a  Will — a  Heart,  and  a  concentrated 
Resolve,  in  a  right  knowledge  of  whom  stands  our 
well-being — present  and  future. 

If  there  be  among  those  that  actually  read  the  Old 
Testament  Scriptures  any  wlio  are  waveiing  in  tlu'ir 
belief  of  the  proper  inspiration  of  the  prophetic  books, 
such  persons  might  be  advised  to  put  to  themselves  a 
question  which,  pei'haps,  hitherto  t]wy  have   nevc!-  pro- 


238  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

pounded,  or  even  thonglit  of,  namely,  this — Whether, 
in  the  habitnal  perusal  of  these  books,  there  has  not 
formed  itself  in  their  minds  what  might  be  called  a 
coiiscioiisness  of  the  Divine  Being  as — A  Person  of 
fliSTOKY — a  feeling  or  cognition,  much  more  sharply 
defined  than  an  abstraction  can  ever  be  ?  And  then 
this  well-defined  historic  conception  is  consistent  with 
itself  in  all  its  elements: — every  particle  of  which  this 
ONE  Idea  is  constituted  is  characteristic,  and  is  in 
harmony  with  the  whole.     If  it  be  so — 

Then  comes  a  second  question,  which  may  be  thus 
worded — Is  it  conceivable  that  an  Idea  of  tliis  order — 
a  conception  so  majestic,  and  so  vivid  and  real,  and  so 
truthfully  historic,  should,  even  if  once  it  had  been 
formed,  have  floated  itself  onwards,  unbroken,  through 
the  waywardness  of  so  many  uncontrolled  human  minds  ? 
Onwards,  unbroken,  it  has  come,  even  from  the  remote 
age  of  its  first  expression,  down  to  the  latest  age  of  its 
last  utterance.  Nothing  that  is  incredible  and  incon- 
ceivable can  be  more  inconceivable  than  is  a  supposition 
of  this  kind.  With  a  healthful  confidence  in  the  sure- 
ness  of  the  instincts  of  truth,  a  mind  in  health  returns 
to  its  belief  that  it  is  indeed  the  voice  of  God  Avhich  has 
ffiven  consistence  and  authoritvto  the  millennium  of  the 
Hebrew  Scriptures. 

It  is  a  trite  theme  with  Biblical  expositors  to  insist 
upon  that  doctrinal  and  ethical  consistency  which  im- 
parts its  character  of  oneness  to  the  Canonical  writings. 
Argumentation  on  this  ground  is  perfectly  valid  ;  yet 
what  now  we  have  in  view  differs  from  that  argument, 
as  well  in  its  substance,  as  in  the  use  that  may  be  made 
of  it.  Difiicult  it  is,  and  must  be,  to  give  distinct 
expression  to  a  conception  of  this  kind,  involving  as  it 


HEBREW    POETRY.  2S9 

does,  the  most  sacred  elements,  and  in  doing  so  to  avoid 
apparent  improprieties ;  so  to  write  as  shall  offend  no 
i-eliLiioiis  decorum,  and  yet  so  as  shall  be  sfifficiont  for 
bringing  into  view,  with  distinctness,  an  occult  analogy. 
If,  however,  a  writer's  intention  is  well  understood, 
indulgence  may  well  be  granted  him  on  any  single 
occasion  when  he  bespeaks  it. 

If  the  Hebrew  Poetry,  regarded  as  a  whole,  be  a 
national  literature,  and  if  it  cai-ries  upon  its  surface, 
very  distinctly,  its  nationality,  and  not  less  distinctly 
the  individuality  of  each  writer  in  the  series — it  carries 
with  it  also — and  it  does  so  with  a  bright  distinctness 
(let  us  speak  with  all  reverence)  the  Individuality  of 
the  Infinite,  the  Eternax,  the  Just,  the  Good,  and 
Wise,  who  is  the  Author  of  this  Hebrew  literature  in 
a  higher  sense. 

The  Bible  reader — if  his  consciousness  has  not  already 
been  damaged  by  his  converse  with  petulant  and  nuga- 
tory criticism — is  here  challenged  to  pursue  the  sugges- 
tion that  has  been  put  before  him.  The  more  he  gives 
himself  to  this  line  of  thought — following  it  out  in  a  new 
perusal  of  the  prophetic  Scriptures,  from  first  to  last — 
the  more  convincing  will  be  the  inference,  and  the  more 
irresistible  the  impression,  that  these  Scriptures  are 
everywhere  marked  with  an  Individuality  which  is  not 
that  of  the  people,  and  which  is  not  that  of  the  men — 
the  prophets  in  series — but  is  that  of  Hlm  "  who  spake 
by  the  prophets.'' 

An  argument  resting  on  this  ground  may  easily  be 
put  aside  by  those  who  may  be  inclined  to  escape  from  a 
foreseen  inference ;  for  an  appeal  is  made  to  a  sense — to 
a  feeling — to  a  moral  and  a  literary  taste  which  all  men 
have  not,  and  which  some  who  once  lin<l  it  hnvelost,  and 


240  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


of  which  any  one  may  choose  to  profess  hunself  destitute. 
We  now  address  ourselves  to  those  whose  mental  and 
moral  condition  is  of  that  kind  which  readily  coalesces 
with  Truth,  and  not  the  less  so  when  it  is  found  beneath 
the  surface.  We  say — found  beneath  the  surface  in  this 
sense : — the  individuality  of  each  of  the  inspired  writers 
presents  itself  to  view,  on  the  surface:  the  theology  and 
the  moral  system  of  all — as  one  religion^  is  conspicuous 
on  the  surface  of  the  Scriptures;  but  what  we  here 
venture  to  speak  of  in  terms  of  reverence — namely,  the 
Personal  Character  or  Individuality  of  the  Divine  Being 
— is  a  fact — distinct  indeed,  but  occult,  and  needing 
therefore  to  be  sought  for. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

THE    HEBREW    LITERATURE,    AXD    OTHER    LITERATURES. 

Much  might  easily  be  written,  pertinently  perhaps,  and 
ingeniously,  no  doubt,  and  learnedly  too,  with  the  inten- 
tion of  instituting  a  comparison  between  the  Hebrew 
Scriptures  and  other  national  literatures,  wliich  must  be 
tljose  of  China,  of  India,  in  its  two  fields,  and  of  Persia, 
and  of  Greece.  Comparative  criticisms  on  this  ground 
may  be  instituted  either  with  an  intention  hostile  to  the 
claims  of  the  Hebrew  literature,  or  with  an  intention 
favourable — not  so  much  to  those  claims,  as  to  the 
assumed  literary  repute,  and  the  supposed  genius  and 
intelligence  of  the  several  writers. 

Comparisons  of  this  kind,  and  it  is  the  same  whether 
the  intention  of  those  who  institute  them  be  hostile  or 
apologetic,  we  hold  to  be  founded  altogether  upon  an 
erroneous  hypothesis ;  and  in  fiict  they  never  fail  to  ex- 
haust, quickly,  any  small  substance  of  reason  that  there 
may  be  in  them,  and  to  spend  themselves  in  disquisitions 
tliat  are  nugatory,  impertinent,  and  pedantic.  The  read- 
er soon  becomes  sick  of  any  such  attenuated  criticisms, 
in  the  course  of  which  the  writer  swelters  away  to  no 
en<l — for  he  has  set  out  on  a  path  that  leads  to  nothing. 
If  now  putting  out  of  view  the  Oriental  literatures,  with 
wliich  the  mass  of  readers  can  have  none  but  a  third- 
hand  acquaintance,  and  which  must  be  fragmentary  and 
insufficient  for  any  purposes  of  intelligent  adjudication 


242  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

— and  if  we  were  to  bring  into  view  that  only  ancient 
literature  with  which  educated  persons  are  more  or  less 
familiar— the  literature  of  Greece — its  Philosophy,  its 
History,  its  Poetry — lyric,  dramatic,  and  epic,  then 
might  any  proposed  comparison  with  the  Hebrew  books 
be  peremptorily  rejected,  on  this  ground,  that  the  dis- 
similarities— the  contrasts — the  contrarieties,  are  so 
great  and  striking  as  to  throw  absurdity  upon  the 
attempt  to  establish  any  ground  of  analogy — whether 
for  purposes  of  encomium  or  of  disparagement. 

The  Greek  literature,  in  each  of  its  species — not  less 
than  its  inimitable  sculptures — is  a  product  of  art ;  it 
is  an  elaborate  combination  of  the  poet's  or  of  the  artist's 
individual  genius  and  practised  skill,  with  the  highly- 
cultured  taste,  and  the  large  requirements  of  the  men 
of  his  time.  But,  as  we  have  said,  again  and  again, 
the  Hebrew  writers  are  never  artists.  Two  or  three 
books  of  the  Canon  excepted,  if  indeed  these  should  be 
excepted,  then  it  must  be  affirmed  that  everything  with- 
in this  circle  is  unartistic  in  a  literary  sense,  and  unla- 
boured. Certain  metrical  usages  are  complied  with  by 
the  poet ;  and  so  he  complies  with  the  grammatical 
usages  of  his  language :  but  his  course  of  thought  obeys 
an  influence  of  another,  and  of  a  higher  order.  It 
Avould  not  be  enough  to  affirm — That  the  manner  of 
the  Hebrew  writers  is  that  of  simple-hearted  men,  who 
naturally  fall  into  an  inartificial  and  fragmentary  mode 
of  expressing  themselves ;  for  this  affirmation  does  not 
satisfy  the  requirements  of  the  instance  before  us. 
Their  manner  is  not  an  artless  innocence ;  it  is  not  the 
rudeness  of  a  pristine  era;  for,  from  the  first  to  the  last, 
it  has  the  force  and  the  firm  j^ui'pose  proper  to  a  deep 
intention.     Moreover  the  constant  course  of  thinirs  in 


HEBREW    POETRY.  243 

the  dcvclopnieut  of  a  people's  mind  is  tliis — that  a  lite- 
rature which  is  inartificial  in  its  dawn,  goes  through  a 
process  of  elaboration  in  its  noon-tide ;  nor  ever  fails,  in 
its  decline,  to  become  false  in  taste,  and  wanting  in  soul. 

Xo  process  of  this  sort  gives  evidence  of  its  presence 
in  the  passage  of  the  Hebrew  Poetry  from  age  to  age ; 
and  yet  its  presence  becomes  manifest  enough  at  the 
very  moment  after  the  sealing  of  the  prophetic  eco- 
nomy:  thenceforward  Jewish  literature  shows  its  grey 
liairs.  Within  the  compass  of  the  Psalms  there  are 
odes  which  belong  to  the  extreme  points  of  the  national 
history — if  we  take  its  commencement  at  the  time  of  the 
Exodus,  and  date  its  conclusion  a  century  later  than  the 
return  of  the  remnant  of  the  people  to  their  City,  and 
the  restoration  of  their  Avorship.  AVe  here  embrace 
more  than  a  thousand  years ;  yet,  on  tlie  ground  of  the 
natural  progress  of  Poetry,  from  its  earliest  to  its  latest 
style,  this  difference  of  date  would  not  be  detected,  and 
it  is  indicated  only  by  references  to  events  in  the  people's 
history. 

Tlie  Hebrew  literature  differs  absolutely,  and  it  differs 
in  a  manner  that  sets  at  nought  all  attempted  compari- 
sons between  itself  and  that  of  Greece.  It  does  so,  for 
instance,  in  the  department  of  history ;  for  even  if  we 
take  up  that  of  Greece,  not  as  we  find  it  in  Tliucydides, 
but  as  it  pleasantly  flows  on  as  a  devious  river  in  the 
pages  of  Herodotus,  Ave  should  do  no  service  to  the  He- 
brew chroniclers  by  attempting  to  show  that,  if  they  had 
Avritten  of  Assyria,  and  of  Babylon,  and  of  Egypt,  dis- 
cursively, we  might  have  found  in  our  Bibles  a  match 
for  the  Clio  or  the  ^Melpomene.  With  these  narrators 
of  single  lines  of  events  there  was  no  ability  of  the  same 
order ;  there  were  no  literary  habits  of  the  same  order. 


244  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

Even  less  tolerable  would  be  an  attempt  to  match  David 
or  Isaiah  with  JEschylus,  or  Sophocles,  or  even  with 
Ilesiod  or  Pindar.  It  is  not  so  much  that  we  might  not 
■find  in  the  Greek  writers — Plato,  for  instance,  or 
^schylus — the  rudiments  of  a  theology — true  and 
great,  so  far  as  it  goes ;  but  in  no  Greek  writer,  in  none 
anterior  to  the  diffusion  of  the  Gospel,  are  there  to  be 
found  any  rudiments  whatever — any  mere  fragments, 
however  small — of  that  Life  of  the  soul  toward 
God,  and  of  that  Divine  correspondence  with  man 
which,  in  every  Psalm,  in  every  page  of  the  Prophets, 
shines — burns — rules,  with  force — overrules  Poetry — 
drives  from  its  area  the  feeble  resources  of  human  art, 
and  brings  down  upon  earth  those  powers  and  those 
profound  emotions  which  bespeak  the  nearness  of  the 
Infinite  and  Eternal,  when  God  holds  communion  with 
those  that  seek  to  live  in  the  light  of  His  favour. 

There  is,  however,  a  ground — not  indeed  of  compari- 
son, but  of  intelligible  contrast,  which  it  is  well  to  pur- 
sue ;  for  it  is  here  that  the  proper  claims  of  the  He- 
brew Scriptures  come  into  a  position  where  there  neither 
is,  nor  can  be,  any  sort  of  rivalry. 

Let  it  just  now  be  granted  (for  a  moment)  that,  with- 
in the  circle  of  the  Greek  literature — including  its  his- 
tory, its  poetry,  and  its  philosophy — there  might  be 
found  a  sufficient  theology,  and  a  sufficient  system  of 
morals — a  belief  toward  God,  and  a  practice  of  the  vir- 
tues—personal and  social — justice,  temperance,  mercy, 
or  benevolence ;  and  let  those  who  would  risk  such  a 
paradox  affirm  that,  on  the  whole,  the  Greek  theology 
and  ethics  are  as  commendable,  and  as  eligible,  as  are 
the  theology  and  the  ethics  of  the  Hebrews  :  yet  is  there 
this  diflTerence — if  there  were  no  other — that  the  one 


HEBREW    POETRY.  245 

religions  scheme  has  thrown  itself  into  a  form  to  which 
a  direct  authentication,  as  from  Heaven,  could  never  be 
made  to  apply  ;  while,  on  the  contrary,  the  Hebrew 
theology,  and  its  ethical  system,  exist  in  a  form  to  which 
•the  voucher  from  above  may  be  made  to  attach  ;  and 
therefore  that  this  scheme  may  meet  the  requirements 
of  mankind — as  an  authenticated  Religion,  which  may 
be  taken  up  and  used  as  the  rule  and  warrant  of  the  reli- 
gious life.  Briefly  to  open  up  this  contrast  will  be 
proper ;  and  two  or  three  instances,  selected  from  differ- 
ent quarters,  will  be  enough  to  show  what  it  is  that  is 
intended. 

The  question  is  not — AVhich,  in  any  two  samples,  is 
the  preferable  one,  on  abstract  grounds,  as  more  true, 
or  of  better  tendency  than  the  other? — but  this — To 
wliich  of  the  two — when  placed  side  by  side — it 
would  be  possible  (or,  if  possible,  useful)  to  attach  the 
seal  of  Heaven,  as  our  warrant  for  accepting  it  as  the 
source  of  belief  in  religion  ?  Nor  does  it  at  all  concern 
us  to  inquire  whether,  in  Plato,  the  theology  and  the 
philosophy  be  his  own,  or  be  that  of  his  master — 
whether  it  is  Socrates  who  speaks,  or  Plato,  for  himself 
and  his  master ;  in  either  case  it  is  the  same  flow  of 
human  thought  throughout  these  Dialogues — deep — 
sincere — ingenuous— a  depth  which  has  secured  for 
them,  and  must  ever  give  them,  an  immortality  among 
cultured  nations,  to  the  world's  end.  And  this  is  an 
immortality  which  perhaps  may  brighten  so  much 
the  more,  when,  in  the  onward  course  of  religious 
opinion,  Christianity— or  let  us  better  say,  the  Religion 
of  Holy  Scripture,  at  length  accepted,  rejoiced  in  by  all 
men,  shall  draw  all  things  that  are  the  most  excellent 
•into  its  wake — no  one  thenceforward  unwisely  attempt- 


246  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

ino-  to  bring-  tlie  two  upon  a  level,  as  if  both  alike  were 
llevelations  —both  alike  inspired.  The  one  is  sterling, 
excellent,  admirable,  weighty,  and  of  inestimable  value: 
— the  other  is  Divine — it  is  more  than  human  : — 
God  has  sealed  it  as  His  own,  and  the  two  stand  before' 
us,  distinguished,  not  only  in  tliis  way,  that  the  one 
bears  on  it  a  stamp  which  the  other  has  not ; — nor  only 
in  this  way,  that  the  doctrine  of  the  one,  as  compared 
with  the  doctrine  of  the  other,  is  preferable,  and  is  more 
true,  and  is  more  conspicuously  Divine — but  in  this 
way,  that  the  one  body  of  religious  thought  which 
actually  carries  the  seal,  presents  itself  under  condi- 
tions adapted  to  so  peculiar  a  purpose  and  to  so  special 
a  service  as  that  of  receiving  this  mark  from  Heaven, 
and  of  going  forth  into  all  the  world — to  rule  the 
human  mind,  and  to  make  valid  every  hope  and  every 
dread  that  can  strengthen  virtue. 

Poor  and  narrow  indeed  is  that  jealousy,  pretended 
to  be  felt  for  the  honour  of  our  Christianity,  which 
prompts  some  to  lay  bare  the  ambiguous  speculations  of 
the  Pii.EDO — pointing  the  finger  at  its  tremulous  places, 
and  vaunting  its  dimness,  and  ending  with  the  trium- 
phant interjection — "  See  what  was  the  darkness  of 
heathenism  !  "  Nay,  this  dimness  was  crepuscular ;  it 
was  not  a  shadow  of  the  eventide.  This  dimness, 
regarded  in  its  bearing  upon  the  progress  of  the  human 
inind,  bespoke  the  morning  at  hand ;  and  why  should 
we  doubt  it,  or  why  be  backward  to  give  utterance  to 
our  confidence,  that,  to  these  illustrious  minds — this 
Creed — "  wherefore  we  hold  it  to  be  true  that  the  soul 
is  immortal  and  imperishable  " — was,  to  him  who  so 
sj^oke,  a  presage  of  day  ?  The  dying  sage,  who  said, 
ya^  TO  d^Xov  xal  t)  sXrtis  [Lzyciy.%  shall  he  not  find  that, 


HEBREW    POETRY.  247 

Avithin  the  ILides,  on  the  threshold  of  wliieh  liis  foot 
then  oahnly  rested,  there  was,  in  due  time,  to  be  opened, 
a,  door  of  hope  ? 

"To  stay  oneself,"  says  this  teacher,  "with  absolute 
coniidence,  or  to  utter  with  assurance,  as  certain,  the 
things  we  have  thus  discoursed  about,  would  not 
become  a  wise  man.''  Xevertheless,  the  argument  on 
this  side  Avas  of  such  strength  that,  as  he  says,  a  man 
might  well  live,  and  practise  every  virtue,  on  the  faith 
of  it.  The  reasoning  of  Socrates,  if  translated  into  the 
terms  of  modern  philosophy — if  put  into  its  equivalents 
in  P^rench,  German,  or  English,  would  not  carry  con- 
viction to  many  minds  ;  and  the  less  so  because  reasons, 
drawn  from  the  instincts  of  the  moral  life,  which  with 
ourselves  must  have  the  greatest  force,  are  not,  in  this 
instance,  adduced.  Kor  is  the  faith  of  Socrates  (Plato) 
in  any  pi-opei-  sense  a  theological  faith.  God  is  not  the 
reason  of  the  immortality  of  man ;  nor  is  He  the 
Granter  of  it ;  nor  is  the  favour  of  God  spoken  of  as 
the  light  of  that  life  future. 

But  even  if  the  argument  of  the  Ph^do  were  more 
complete  than  it  is,  in  a  theological  sense,  it  is,  at  the 
best,  nothing  better  than  the  opening  out  of  a  hypo- 
thesis : — the  reasoner  disposes  of  certain  objections ; 
he  fortifies  his  position  on  this  side,  and  that  side. 
Human  thought  is  here  evolving  itself,  after  its  manner, 
on  ground  over  which  no  road  has  been  laid  down, 
and  on  which  no  sure  light  shines.  In  what  way,  then, 
or  to  what  purpose,  might  this,  or,  indeed,  the  entire 
body  of  Plato's  Avritings,  receive  a  warranty  from 
Heaven,  and  so  come  into  a  place  of  authority,  in 
matters  of  belief?  To  no  such  purpose  as  this  are 
they  adapted.     Looking  now  to  the  Apology,  and  to 


24:8  'THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

the  Pii.EDO,  as  related  to  the  same  great  question  of  a 
future  life,  the  attractive  quality  of  both  is  that  modesty, 
that  calm  pliilosophic  balance  of  the  mind,  professing 
its  choice  of  a  belief  that  is  fovoui-able  to  virtue,  and 
enheartening  especially  to  those  wiio  boar  testimony  for 
wisdom  and  goodness  among  the  enemies  of  both  ;  the 
Martyr-teacher  will  yet  do  no  more  than  declare  his 
own  faith,  and  make  profession  of  a  hope,  the  reality 
of  which,  or  its  futility,  none  among  the  living  knows, 
or  can  know : — it  is  known,  he  says,  to  God  alone.* 

Taking  the  Platonic  beliet^— just  as  it  stands  in  these 
Dialogues,  and  in  the  Apology,  the  substance  to  which, 
in  any  way  whatever,  the  seal  of  God  might  come  to 
be  attached  is — not,  that  belief  itself;  but  only — the 
dialectic  conditions  under  which  it  may  be  entertained, 
as  a  probable  hypothesis,  by  a  wise  and  good  man. 
The  voucher  could  reach  this  extent  only — that  it  is 
allowable  so  to  believe  concerning  tlie  future  of  the 
human  soul.  If  beyond  tliis  we  should  say — the  Socra- 
tic  belief  might  have  received  an  explicit  approval,  this 
could  only  be  by  appending  to  the  Platonic  text  a  sup- 
iJementary  text — a  page  or  paragraph,  which,  in  fact, 
is  not  there.  What  we  have  to  do  with  is — Plato,  as 
the  existing  manuscripts  have  put  him  into  our  hands. 

Then  there  would  be  a  further  difficulty  in  affixing 
the  seal  of  Heaven  to  the  Socratic,  or  the  Platonic 
creed — namely,  this — that  the  belief  of  the  immortality 
and  future  blessedness  of  good  men  is  not  in  any  way 
made  to  take  its  rise  in  a  tlieology,  or  even  in  an  ethical 

*  If  the  last  words  of  the  Apology  may  seem  ambiguous,  the 
inference  we  are  here  concerned  with  will  be  the  same : — the  doc- 
trine of  immortality,  as  professed  by  Socrates,  was  not  more  than  a 
choice  among  contrary  hypotheses.     See  Note. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  249 

selicme.  .Vltliougli  Plato  is  not  hliiist'lf  an  atheist,  his 
doctrine  of  iininoitality  is  absohitely  atheistical.  How 
then  shall  He  in  whom  is  the  life  of  the  future  life 
authenticate  a  creed  in  which  the  Divine  Attributes 
find  no  place,  and  are  not  once  named  ? 

In  search  of  a  belief  M'hich  might  thus  be  made 
available  as  a  Religion — anthenticated  by  God,  we  must 
look  elsewhere.  The  rareness  and  the  brevity  of  those 
passages  in  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  which  relate  to  the 
future  life  we  are  all  used  to  speak  of,  and  also  to  con- 
jecture the  probable  reasons  of  this  reserve.  Yet  few 
as  such  passages  may  be,  and  brief  as  they  are— this 
characteristic  attaches  to  each  of  them — namely,  that 
the  language  of  each  is  peremptory,  and  assured. 
Great  is  the  difference — on  this  ground — between  a 
copious  discursive  disquisition — with  its  probable  con- 
clusions— laboriously  reached — and  a  ten  words  sharply 
uttered,  in  the  natural  tone  of  one  who  is  reporting 
things  of  which  he  has  a  direct  and  infallible  knowledge. 
This  sort  of  determinate  averment — inviting  no  dis- 
cussion, and  supposing  no  question  or  contradiction — 
possesses,  let  it  be  clearly  understood,  that  logical  form 
which  it  should  have,  in  adaptation  to  the  purpose  of 
receiving  the  seal  of  God. 

In  turning  from  the  recorded  hope  of  Socrates,  to 
the  recorded  hope  of  David,  the  contrast  we  are  here 
concerned  with  is  not  that  of  quality ;  nor  is  it  that  of 
the  (piantity  of  illumination  which  is  shed  upon  tlie 
two  respectively,  but  this — which  arises  from  a  distinct 
affirmation,  resting  upon  knowledge  in  the  one  case, 
compared  with  the  avowal  of  an  opinion,  on  grounds  of 
probable  reasoning,  in  the  other  case.  Where  Socrates 
professes  his  hope  of  a  hapjiy  release  from  the  pains 


250  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

and  labours  of  life,  and  an  admittance  into  the  society 
of  the  heroes  of  past  time,  who,  he  says,  are  inhabit- 
ants of  Hades  for  eve)\  David  tluis  gives  the  upshot  of 
his  nightly  meditations,  and  thus,  as  we  might  say,  does 
he  open  the  roll  of  the  book,  in  readiness  for  its  receiv- 
ing the  seal  of  Heaven,  by  bringing  in  the  Lord — the 
First  Party  in  this  compact,  even  as  if  visibly  present 
for  the  purpose  : — 

I  have  set  the  Lord  alwaj-s  before  me ; 

Because  He  is  at  my  right  hand  I  shall  not  be  moved  : 

Therefore  my  heart  is  glad,  and  my  glory  rejoiceth  : 

My  flesh  also  shall  rest  in  hope; 

For  thou  wilt  not  leave  my  soul  in  Hades, 

Neither  wilt  thou  suffer  thine  Hoi}'-  One  to  see  corruption. 

Thou  wilt  show  me  the  path  of  life : 

In  thy  presence  is  fulness  of  joy, 

At  thy  right  hand  are  pleasures  for  evermore.  * 

As  is  the  difference  between  the  first  doubtful  streak 
of  light  in  the  eastern  sky,  and  the  blaze  of  noon  in  the 
tropics,  such  is  the  difference  in  quantity  of  illumination 
between  the  hopeful  belief  of  Socrates,  and  the  firm 
belief  of  David.  Equally  great  also  is  the  difference  as 
to  the  qualiti/ o^  that  light  in  each  instance — might  one 
say — as  to  the  actinic  force — the  germinative  energy 
of  each. 

Yet  if  we  allege  that  the  Platonic  philosophy,  because 
it  is  hypothetic  and  indeterminate,  could  not  be  given 
forth  to  the  world  as  a  Divine  Revelation  (even  if  it 
were  of  much  better  religious  quality  than  it  is)  should 
we  not  be  led  to  seek  for  what  might  serve  such  a  pur- 

*  The  Messianic  meaning  of  this  Psalm  has  no  bearing  u]^on  our 
argument  in  this  instance. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  251 

pose  in  those  products  of  the  Greek  niiiul,  the  very 
clianicteristic  of  wliich  is  a  cletenuiiiiitive  and  catego- 
rical dechiralion  of  principles  ?  Shall  we  not  find  in 
Aristotle  that  which  Plato  will  not  yield  ?  With  this 
purpose  in  view,  it  is  natural  to  turn  to  the  Niconiachean 
Ethics :--a  book  of  sharply  cut  definitions  and  distinc- 
tions, within  the  circuit  of  which  nearly  every  term 
belonging  to  the  glossary  of  common  discourse,  as  well 
as  of  philosophical  discussion,  finds  its  due  place,  in  and 
between  its  contraries,  and  its  cognates,  and  its  syno- 
nyms. Exact,  discriminative,  unquestionable,  for  the 
most  part,  are  these  refined  collocations  of  ethical  terms. 
How  far  such  a  book  might  be  made  to  subserve  the 
purposes  of  a  Treatise  on  Morals  is  not  a  question  that 
concerns  us  in  this  place  :  it  might,  in  a  sense,  serve  this 
l)urpose,  and  so  might  a  Lexicon,  if  cut  in  pieces,  and 
put  up  anew  in  logical  order,  instead  of  the  alphabetical 
order. 

It  is  dear  that  what  might  be  said  of  a  treatise  like 
the  Xicomachean  Ethics,  might  be  affirmed  also  of 
Euclid's  Elements  of  Geometry.  Both  profess  to  be 
demonstrative :  or  otherwise  to  state  the  case,  Aristotle 
and  Euclid,  alike,  so  deal  with  the  matter  in  hand,  at 
each  step  of  their  progress,  as  to  exhaust  all  supposable 
contrary  affirmations.  In  each  instance  any  hypothetic 
contradiction  is  overthrown,  or  is  driven  off  the  field. 
On  the  ground  of  formal  logical  demonstration  no  place 
is  left  for  authentication^  as  if  it  might  be  superadded  to 
the  process  of  reasoning.  If  the  reasoning,  in  any  sin- 
gle instance,  were  faulty  or  fallacious,  then  it  could  gain 
nothing  by  the  seal  which  a  higher  authority  might  give 
it :  but  if  the  reasoning  be  valid,  and  if  we  may  exa- 
mine it,  in  every  link,  then  a  vouclier  for  its  truth  is  quite 


252  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

superfluous : — nothing  is  added  to  our  faith  in  the  rela- 
tions of  extension  to  be  told,  from  on  high,  that  the 
three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  equal  to  two  right  angles 
— or  to  180  degrees.  The  definitions  of  tliis  treatise 
— the  Ethics — accord,  or  they  do  not  accord,  with  the 
notions  we  may  have  entertained  of  the  usages  and  pro- 
prieties of  the  Greek  language,  in  the  class  of  terms 
which  it  embraces.  Rarely,  or  to  a  very  limited  extent 
only,  does  Aristotle  dip  into  the  depths  of  the  moral 
consciousness:  for,  as  he  is  wanting  in  a  theology — if 
theology  be  more  than  a  naked  abstraction — so  he 
wants  soul,  nor  could  he  ever  be  thought  of  as  the 
Prophet  of  great  truths ;  or  as  one  who  was  "  sent  of 
Heaven."  Whither  else,  then,  on  the  field  of  Greek 
literature,  shall  we  turn  in  search  of  any  such  embodi- 
ment of  religious  and  moral  principles  as  might  be  fit 
for  receiving  an  authentication,  so  that  it  might  be  ac- 
cepted and  trusted  to  by  men  everywhere?  The  Poets 
of  the  earlier  era — Ilesiod  and  Homer — may  be  thought 
to  give  expression,  in  some  undefined  sense,  to  a  reli- 
gious and  moral  system ;  but  this  system,  if  thus  it  may 
be  spoken  of,  everywhere  so  commingles  itself  with, 
and  weaves  itself  into,  the  texture  of  a  polytheistic 
tissue,  that  no  voucher  for  great  truths  could  be  attached 
to  the  mass,  so  as  not  to  compHcate  itself  with  the 
fables  that  thicken  around  it,  on  every  page.  Nor  does 
an  extrication  of  the  true  from  the  fabulous  become  at 
all  more  easy  when  we  reach  times  of  higher  refine- 
ment, and  of  a  more  elaborate  art,  as  it  is  found  in  the 
tragedians — ^schylus,  Sophocles,  or  Euripides. 

Much  has  been  said  and  written  of  late  in  behalf  of 
what  professes  to  be  a  benevolent  and  catholic  doctrine 
concerning  the  religious  schooling  of  the  human  family : 


HEBREW    POETRY.  253 

— all  tribes  of  earth,  it  is  said,  have  been  alike  ctired 
for,  and  have  been  led  foi'ward  in  company  toward  the 
trne  and  the  good  ;  and  among  those  who  have  thus 
been  providentially  disciplined,  the  Hebrew  people  is 
not  forgotten.  Yet  to  each  and  to  all  alike  an  unau- 
thenticated  Revelation  has  been  granted.  China  has 
had  its  Bible — the  Buddhist  millions  have  had  their 
Bible — and  so  have  the  people  of  Persia  and  of  Greece; 
and  so  of  Palestine :  all  men  cared  for  alike !  (a  good 
belief,  indeed,)  and  all,  not  only  cared  for  alike,  but 
dealt  with  in  the  same  manner ;  for  among  each  people 
there  has  been  raised  up  a  prophet,  or  a  series  of  pro- 
phets— men  of  soul  and  of  fire,  who,  either  as  philoso- 
phers or  as  poets,  have  quickened  the  inert  masses 
around  them,  and  have  left  on  record  their  testimony  on 
behalf  of  virtue. 

Hold  we  then  to  this  catholic  modern  docti'ine  until 
we  see  what  it  involves.  There  is  assumed  in  this  creed 
a  providential  interposition  in  human  aifairs ;  and  there 
is  supposed  a  beneficent  purpose,  which  is  the  guiding 
reason  of  this  interposition.  Then,  if  it  be  so,  this 
peculiarity  of  the  Hebrew  literature,  and  of  its  body  of 
poetry  especially,  is  brought  into  prominence ;  for  it  is 
tliis  literature,  and  it  is  this  alone  among  the  literatures 
that  are  extant,  which,  from  its  earliest  samples  to  its 
last,  adheres  to  that  form  of  j^eremptory  affirmation 
which  fits  it  to  receive  a  supernatural  attestation  ;  and 
thus  to  become  an  authoritative  source  of  religious 
belief,  beyond  the  circuit  of  its  birthplace  : — that  is,  to 
men  everywhere  to  the  world's  end.  If  the  teaching:  of 
Buddha  was  from  Heaven,  and  if  Homer,  Hesiod,  Plato, 
Aristotle,  were  ministers  of  Heaven,  and  if  Moses  also, 
and  David,  and  Isaiali,  were  such,  then  were  these  last- 


254  THE    SPIKIT    OF    THE 


named  toaehers  so  overruled  in  the  delivery  of  tlieir 
tjucbiiig  as  to  do  it — not  hypothetically — not  ambigu- 
ously— not  scientifically — not  as  if  imcertain — in  igno- 
rance ;  and  yet  not  as  if  certain  in  the  way  of  demon- 
stration ;  but  authoritatively,  and  in  a  tone,  and  in 
terms,  which  imply,  and  suppose,  and  are  proper  to,  a 
continuously  given  supernatural  attestation. 


CHAPTER   XYI. 

THE  HEBREW  POETRY,  AXD  THE   DIVINE  LEGATION  OF  THE 
PROniETS. 

Great,  substantial,  and  of  the  highest  vahie  are  the 
achievements  of  modern  criticism,  in  its  laborious  explo- 
rations of  tlie  Hebrew  Scriptures  ;  nor  can  it  be  doubted 
that  more  will  yet  be  done  on  this  field  when  the  time 
shall  come — and  it  is  sure  to  come,  though  we  may  wait 
long  for  it — that  the  same  learning  (or  more  learning) 
and  the  same  industry,  and  the  same  liberty  (or  even 
greater  liberty)  shall  be  employed  on  the  same  path  of 
philological  and  historical  elucidation,  wholly  free, 
which  it  is  not  yet,  on  the  one  hand,  from  the  sinister 
purposes  of  infidelity,  and  on  the  other  hand,  from 
those  groundless  alarms  which  take  their  rise  in  inde- 
terminate convictions  of  the  Divine  Legation  of  the 
Prophets,  and  so,  in  a  precarious  religious  belief. 

It  is  not  on  the  pathway  of  criticism,  whether  philo- 
logical or  historical,  that  a  determinate  conviction  to 
this  effect  will  ever  be  attained.  Individual  men  will 
not,  nor  do  they  in  fiict,  become  believers  in  this 
method:  religious  communities — that  is  to  say,  the 
masses  of  professedly  Christian  people — with  their 
teachers,  as  a  body,  do  not,  in  the  pursuit  of  studies  of 
this  order,  rid  themselves  of  that  wavering,  anxious, 
unquiet,  halfcompromising,  tone  and  style  which  indi- 
cate a  deep-seated  perplexity — a  root  of  unbelief,  ready 


256  THE    SPIEIT    OF    THE 

always  to  shoot  np  and  put  forth  leaves  on  the  sur- 
face. 

But  take  the  question  of  the  Divine  Legation  of  the 
Hebrew  Propliets  to  an  upper,  and  this  is  its  proper, 
ground — namely,  the  ground  of  the  greater  question, 
concerning  the  truth  and  reality  of  a  Spiritual  System 
— even  of  the  life  of  the  soul  toward  God,  and  there, 
and  on  that  ground,  a  Faith  shall  be  attained  in  posses- 
sion of  which  no  peril  can  be  incurred  on  the  side  of 
even  the  freest  criticism. 

Did  the  Hebrew  Prophets  speak  "  as  they  were 
moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost?"  Did  they  so  speak  as  no 
men  but  they,  and  the  Apostles,  have  ever  spoken  or 
written?  We  should  seek  a  reply  to  this  question  in 
the  answer  that  must  be  given  to  another  question — Is 
there  a  life  divine — is  there  a  life  of  the  soul  toward 
God  ? — Is  there  a  communion  of  the  finite  spirit  with 
the  IxFiNiTE,  on  terms  of  intimate  correspondence,  in 
which  the  deepest  and  the  most  powerful  affections  of 
human  nature  are  drawn  forth  toAvard,  and  centred 
upon,  the  Perfections  of  the  Ixfinite  Beixg  ?  If  there 
be — and  there  is — a  life  of  the  soul  toward  God — a  life 
not  mystical,  not  vague  and  abstractive — then  we  find 
our  reply  to  the  included  question  concerning  the 
Hebrew  Prophetic  Scriptures;  for  it  is  in  these,  and 
it  is  nowhere  else — no  not  to  the  extent  of  a  line — 
a  fragment — it  is  within  this  range  that  the  Spiritual 
Life  is  embodied,  and  is  expanded,  and  is  uttered  in  a 
distinct  and  articulate  manner.  It  is  within  the  com- 
pass of  the  Hebrew  Poetic  and  Prophetic  Scriptures 
that  all  moods  and  occasions — all  trials  and  exercises — 
all  griefs  and  perplexities — all  triumphs  and  all  con- 
solations— all  joys,  hopes,  and  exultations — all  motives 


HEBREW    POETRY.  257 

of  patience,  and  all  animated  expectations  of  the  future, 
find  their  aliment,  and  their  warrant  also.  In  a  word, 
if  there  be  a  life  of  the  soul  toward  God,  and  if  this  life 
be  real,  as  toward  God — then  are  the  Hebrew  writers 
true  men  of  God  ; — then  is  it  certain  that  they  were 
instructed  and  empowered — each  of  them  in  his  time — 
to  set  it  forth,  for  the  use  of  all  men,  to  the  end  of  the 
world. 

Thus  have  believed  and  thus  liave  felt,  millions  of  the 
human  flimily — even  "  a  great  multitude  which  no  man 
can  numbei',"  gathered  from  among  the  nations, 
throughout  the  ages  past. 

But  there  is  now,  and  there  has  long  been,  a  contra- 
diction of  the  Divine  origination  and  authority  of  the 
Old  Testament  Scriptures,  which  has  been  identical,  or 
nearly  so,  with  a  denial  of  tliat  life  of  the  soul  toward 
God  of  which  these  Scriptures  are  the  exposition.  This 
is  the  natural  course  of  things  ;  for  to  those  who  them- 
selves have  no  experience  or  consciousness  of  the  spiri- 
tual life,  the  Plebrew  Scriptures  can  be  indeed  only  a 
dead  letter — unintelligible,  flat,  vapid,  and  unattractive, 
and  therefore  open  to  that  hostile  and  disparaging  cri- 
ticism which  has  so  much  abounded  of  late.  AVe  say 
the  two  denials  have  been  nearly  identical ;  and  yet  not 
absolutely  so  ;  for  a  streinious  endeavour  has  l)een  made 
of  late  to  affirm  a  sort  of  spirituality,  while  the  claim  of 
the  Old  Testament  Scriptures  to  Divine  origination  has 
been  resentfully  rejected.  Those  who  make  this  endea- 
vour do  not  allow  thems^elves  to  inquire  whence  it  is  that 
they  themselves  have  derived  those  notions  (defective 
indeed)  of  the  spiritual  life  which  they  profess  : — the 
derivation  cannot  have  been  from  oriental  sources, 
which  yield  nothing,  at  the  best,  but  a  pantheistic  mys- 


258  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


tieism:— nor  can  it  have  been  from  the  Greek  classical 
literature,  for  in  tliis  literature  no  element  whatever — no, 
not  a  stray  spark — not  the  remotest  indication  of  the 
affectionate  communion  of  the  human  soul  with  God — 
God,  near  at  hand  and  personal — is  to  be  found,  either 
in  the  poets^  or  in  the  philosophers.  Nor  has  this  vague 
spirituality  derived  itself  from  the  writings  of  the  Evan- 
gelists and  Apostles,  for  in  these  the  spiritual  life — 
the  devotional  life,  is  assumed.,  and  it  is  vouched  for  as 
real ;  but  it  is  not  expanded  or  expounded.  Those, 
in  fact,  who  profess  a  sort  of  spirituality,  and  who,  in 
doing  so,  reject  the  claims  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures, 
have  stolen  what  they  profess  : — or  they  have  snatched 
it  up,  not  caring  to  know  whence  it  has  come  into  their 
hands. 

Happily,  as  to  a  thousand  to  one  of  devout  Christian 
people,  well  assured  as  the}^  are  of  the  reality  of  the 
spiritual  life — conscious  as  they  are  of  it,  and  finding 
therein  their  solace — their  peace — their  anticipation 
of  its  fulness  in  the  future  life — these  religious  persons 
have  remained  uninformed  of  the  exceptive  pleadings 
of  modern  criticism  ;  and  thus  they  hear  and  read  their 
Bibles  in  the  tranquil  confidence  of  faith  ; — and  it  is  a 
warrantable  confidence  in  which  they  live,  and  in  which 
they  die — ignorant  of  gainsaying :  or  it  may  be  that 
some  rumours  of  these  nugatory  contradictions  come, 
once  and  again,  to  the  knowledge  of  such  persons, 
giving  them  a  momentary  imeasiness : — a  rude  assault 
— repelled,  at  the  moment,  is  presently  forgotten  !  Well 
that  it  should  be  so ! 

But  an  injury  more  serious — a  damage  less  transient, 
is  sustained — at  this  time — by  many  among  tliose 
who,  partakers  as  they  are  of  the  spiritual  life,   have 


HEBREW    POETRY.  259 

been  brouglit,  by  their  education,  and  by  their  social 
habitudes,  within  range  of  the  modern  exce})tive  ci-iti- 
cism  ; — especially  of  that  portion  of  it  which  bears 
u]>on  the  Hebrew  Sci'iptures ;  and  which  also  has  a 
nialio-nant  intention.  From  this  coojnizance  of  adverse 
criticism  much  trouble  of  mind  springs  up;  and  this 
is  perhaps  more  often  enhanced  or  deepened,  than 
assuaged  or  dispersed,  by  listening  to  the  well-inten- 
tioned explanations,  and  extenuations,  and  glozings,  and 
evasions  of  Christian  teachers.  The  disturbed  mental 
condition — the  damaged  spiritual  health  of  this"  large 
class  of  religious  persons  is,  at  this  time,  the  j^robleni 
of  Christian  Instructors.  Authenticated  and  well-mform- 
ed  instructors — themselves  perplexed,  and  themselves 
inwardly  unquiet — do  their  best,  honestly,  for  the  help 
of  their  people  ;  but  they  do  it  with  little  satisfaction  to  • 
themselves  or  others. 

It  is  not  j^erhajDS  many,  even  of  these  well-informed 
Christian  teachers,  who  well  perceive — if  they  perceive 
at  all — that  the  epidemic  trouble  is  altogether  the  con- 
sequence of  modes  of  religious  thinking  that  are  quite 
recent :  too  recent  are  they  to  have  been  provided  for 
in  our  schemes  of  religious  teaching.  The  remedy  will 
come  in  its  time  ;  and  the  life  of  the  soul  toward  God — 
relieved  from  this  temporary  oppression,  will  regain  its 
healthful  condition  with  renewed  power. 

Nevertheless,  this  renovation  will  not  take  i)lace 
apart  from  some  severe  and  painful  procedures  in  demo- 
lishing cherished  prepossessions.  If  we  liave  coveted, 
and  have  actually  possessed  ourselves  of  the  privileges 
and  the  triumphs  of  knowledge,  it  is  inevitahle  that  we 
should  endure  the  pams  consequent  upon  that  acqui- 
sition: these  pains  are  as  infallibly  sure  to  come  on,  as 


260  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

if  tlicy  were  enacted  by  statute.  We  must  not  fondly 
tlilnk  it  possible  to  retain  the  comforts  of  ignorance 
(wliicli  are  many  and  real)  while  we  are  in  the  fruition 
of  the  better  blessings  of  knowledge.  The  present 
trouble  of  the  religious  body  may  be  interpreted  as 
premonitive  of  a  renewed  life  which  shall  ere  long  be 
granted  to  the  Christian  community,  from  on  High. 

It  is  not  enough  to  say — the  modern  mind,  for  we 
must  say — the  Northern  modern  mind,  has  passed  into 
a  mood  which,  as  yet,  has  not  got  itself,  adjusted  to  a 
rightful  acceptance  of  a  Revelation  attested  as  sucli  by 
supernatural  interventions.  In  the  nature  of  things  a 
Revelation,  attested  as  from  God,  by  supernatural  inter- 
ventions, can  never  adjust  itself  to  generalizati07\s  of 
any  kind ;  for  a  Revelation  which  might  be  d«alt  with 
— either  as  to  its  mode  of  reaching  us,  or  as  to  the 
substance  of  the  matters  so  conveyed — as  open  to  (jene- 
ralizations^  must  cease  to  be  what  it  declares  itself  to 
be — a  unique  Revelation  : — it  must  at  once  be,  and  not 
be — an  instance  that  has  no  parallel. 

On  this  ground  there  is  a  lesson  yet  to  be  learned  by 
the  thoughtful  men  of  tliis  present  time : — these,  or  the 
sons  of  these,  shall  look  back  and  wonder  that  this 
lesson  was  found  to  be  so  hard  ;  and  in  truth  we  of  this 
thne  may  come  to  thhik  of  it  as  less  difficult  if  we  duly 
considered  the  fact  that  a  problem,  equally  perplexing, 
w^as  solved,  and  that  a  lesson  equally  revolting  was 
learned,  so  recently  as  two  centuries  ago,  or  a  little 
more,  by  our  intellectual  ancestors — even  by  the  great 
guild  of  mind  at  the  challenge  (mainly)  of  Bacon. 

This  problem,  upon  tiie  solution  of  which  our  modern 
philosophy  now  broadly  takes  its  rest,  bears  more  than 
a  remote  resemblance  to  the  problem  in  the  solution  ot 


JIEIUIEW    POETRY.  261 


■\vliich  the  Christian  body,  throughout  the  "svorkl,  shall 
at  length  rejoice,  and  shall  take  its  rest. 

It  had  boon  believed  "  by  them  of  old  time" — it  had 
boon  held  as  a  first  truth,  beyond  the  range  of  doul)t, 
that  the  material  universe — the  visible  Kosmos,  must  he^ 
and  is,  in  conformity  with  a  scheme  of  logical  genera- 
lizations, and  that  phenomena,  of  all  kinds,  should  be 
interpretable  on  the  ground,  and  by  the  means  of,  those 
generalizations,  which  did  office  in  philosophy  as  its  orga- 
iion.  But  the  time  came  for  the  proclamation  of  a 
Novum  Organon^  and  at  that  proclamation  old  things 
passed  away,  as  a  dream,  and  all  things  became  new. 
Fatal  to  the  universe — accordins:  to  losjic — were  those 
words  of  doom — Homo  naturce  minister  et  interpres. 

Some  real  progress  has  been  made  of  late  in  winning 
the  assent  of  the  Christian  community  to  the  parallel 
axiom,  which  puts  the  words  "  Holy  Scripture"  in  the 
place  of  the  word  "  Nature"  in  Bacon's  aphorism.  So 
far  as  this  it  is  admitted,  in  regard  to  the  substance  of 
truth  conveyed  in  the  Insi)ired  writings,  that — The  best 
theologian  is  the  best  interpreter  ;  or,  otherwise  worded 
— The  best  theology  is  that  which  is  an  undamaged 
product  of  a  free  and  genuine  interpretation  of  the 
sacred  text.  This  now  assented-to  axiom  stands  opposed, 
on  the  one  hand,  to  all  logic-made  theologies ;  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  to  that  theology  which  pays  little  or  no 
regard  to  Scripture,  and  which — putting  contempt  upon 
the  Bible — takes  at  pleasure  out  of  it  just  so  much,  or 
as  little  of  doctrine  as  may  suit  every  man's  notions  of 
what  it  is  fitting  to  believe. 

Thus  far  a  conclusion  has  slowly  grown  upon  the 
Christian  mind — among  ourselves  at  least ;  but  the  ax- 
iom   has   a  furtlier  appHc.ition,   which    still    awaits   the 


262  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

assent  and  approval  of  the  same  Christian  mind.  The 
perplexities  of  the  present  time,  regarding  the  authority 
and  the  constitution  of  the  Inspired  Scriptures,  are  the 
indications  of  an  unsettled  or  undetermined  belief  on 
this  ground.  Tlie  assailants  of  the  i^roper  insj^iration  of 
the  Scriptures  think  themselves  strong  in  their  position, 
and  reckon  themselves  sure  of  a  triumph,  not  distant : 
— they  beheve  they  shall  so  make  good  their  array  of 
Bible-faults  as  shall  compel  their  perplexed  opponents 
to  acknowledge  an  overthrow,  and  so  to  leave  the  Bible 
to  its  fate.  This  overweening  and  unwise  confidence  is 
indeed  a  demonstration  of  the  vanity  and  the  presump- 
tion of  those  who  entertain  it,  and  of  their  own  want 
of  (or  loss  of)  those  greater  qualities  of  mind  which 
should  have  secured  them  against  so  slender  an  infatu- 
ation. 

But  then,  on  the  believing — or,  as  we  say,  on  the 
orthodox  side,  there  are  indications,  not  to  be  mistaken, 
of  indecisiveness,  and  of  the  anxieties  which  attend  a 
transition-period  in  matters  of  faith.  So  it  is  that  we 
find  expressions  of  this  kind  abounding  on  the  pages  of 
orthodox  apologists — Ought  we  not  to  expect  difficul- 
ties^ even  serious  difficulties,  in  Holy  Scripture  ? — As  to 
most  of  the  objections  urged  by  infidel  writers,  they  are 
susceptible  of  a  reasonable  answer  ; — and  as  to  such  as 
remain,  at  present,  unsolved,  we  are  to  regard  them  as 
left  where  they  are  for  the  trial  of  our  faith.  And  thus 
again — The  Scriptures  were  not  given  to  teach  us 
natural  science  ;  and  we  ought  not  to  look  into  them  for 
a  philosophy  which  the  human  mind  is  to  work  out  for 
itself. 

These,  and  such-like  exculpatory  and  palliative  aver- 
ments, are  true  and  proper,  so  far  as  they  go ;  but  they 


HEBREW    POETRY.  263 

do  not  avail,  and  never  can  avail  (every  one  feels  it)  to 
the  extent  that  is  just  now  reqnired  for  allaying  the 
prevalent  uneasiness.  Xot  at  all  do  such  explanations 
suffice  for  substantiating  the  modern  (Iveformation  era) 
notion  of  verbal  inspiration.  How  can  that  notion  hold 
its  ground  in  front  of  the  long  catalogue  of  the  results 
of  genuine  modern  criticism?  This  cannot  be  ;  and  the 
adherents  of  a  theory  so  inconsiderately  framed  await, 
in  alarm,  the  moment  of  an  unconditional  surrender. 

Intermediate,  or  compromising  theories,  many  and 
various,  have  been  propounded.  Yet  a  question  has 
barely  been  considered  of  this  sort — Whether  the  need, 
at  all,  of  a  theory  of  inspiration  is  not  quite  imaginary, 
taking  its  rise  in  a  natural  prejudice  of  which  we  should 
rid  ourselves  ?  It  is  inevitable  (nor  blameworthy)  that, 
if  we  think  much  of  God,  and  of  His  ways,  we  should 
mm  off  into  theories — should  assume  much,  in  our  pur- 
blind way,  concerning  the  attributes  of  God,  and  His 
Avays  of  governing  the  universe,  and  of  dealing  with  men 
at  large,  and  especially  of  His  providential  treatment  of 
those  who  love  and  fear  and  serve  Him.  So  it  comes 
about,  on  frequent  occasions,  that  we  give  oblique  utter- 
ance to  these  unwarranted  surmises,  and  acknowledge 
the  breaking-up  of  some  theory  when,  in  painful  and 
distracting  instances,  w^e  speak  of — a  dark  Providence — 
a  mysterious  Providence  !  The  ways  of  God  are  not 
what  we  had  supposed  they  onght  to  be : — they  run 
counter  to  all  our  notions  of  what  is  wise  and  good  ;  we 
are  therefore  perplexed  and  offended. 

A  similar  perplexity  and  a  similar  offence  come  in  to 
trouble  us  when  Biblical  criticism  puts  in  its  plea  for  a 
hearing.  The  grf)und  of  this  jierplexity,  or,  let  us  say, 
the   history  of  its  rise,  miglit   thus  be  rudely  put  into 


264  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

words — If  I  imagine  myself  })ossessed  of  all  knowledge 
— natural,  historical,  and  spiritual,  and  if  I  am  sincere, 
and  if  my  intentions  are  in  every  sense  wise  and  good, 
and  if,  being  thus  qualified^  and  thus  disposed^  I  sit 
down  to  write  a  book — that  book  sliall  be  faultless  in 
every  sense  : — not  only  shall  it  be  true  throughout,  but 
it  shall  be  the  best  book  that  ever  has  been  written,  as 
to  its  taste,  its  style,  its  literary  execution  :  in  a  word 
the  book  will  be  such  as  may  defy  criticism,  on  every 
ground. 

But  the  Bible  is  the  Book  of  God  ; — or,  according 
to  the  modern  phrase — the  Bible  has  God  for  its  Author. 
Most  true  indeed  is  this  ; — but  it  is  not  true  in  the 
sense  in  which  the  modern  Church  has  understood  its 
own  saying.  If  the  Bible  has  God  for  its  Author,  why 
is  it  not  such  a  book  as  I  would  have  written,  if  I  were 
qualified,  as  above  stated  ?  Clearly  it  is  not  such  a 
book ;  and  we  are  staggered  in  our  faith. 

In  the  day  when  the  Church-^the  Christian  com- 
munity—shall have  come  fully  to  know  (and  they  must 
acquire  this  knowledge  by  aid  of  criticism)  what  sort 
of  book  the  Bible  is^  then  Avill  they  have  come  to  know 
also,  what  sort  of  book  the  Bible  ought  to  be.  It  is, 
we  may  be  sure,  such  a  book  as  shall,  in  the  most 
complete  and  absolute  manner,  accomplish  and  bring 
about,  in  the  world  at  large,  and  in  the  souls  of  men 
individually,  the  purposes  for  which  it  was  sent :  but 
the  accomplishment  of  those  inscrutable  purposes  is 
wholly  irrespective  of  those  points  of  perfection  which, 
to  the  human  apprehension,  seem  of  primary  impor- 
tance. In  this  sense  how  true  is  it  that  "  the  things 
which  are  higlily  esteemed  among  men"  are  in  7io 
esteem  with   God  : — it  may  be  they  are  in  His  sight 


HEBREW    POETRY.  265 


deserving  of  reprobation.  The  Bible  is  not — as  a 
BOOK — tlie  book  we  should  have  made  it ;  nor  is  it  the 
book  we  should  now  make  it,  if  the  Canon  were  sub- 
mitted to  our  revising  wisdom.  But  it  is  the  book  of 
Him  who  has  thus  commended  it  to  our  acceptance  : — 

"  For  as  the  rain  cometh  down,  and  tlie  snow  from  heaven, 
And  returneth  not  thither, 
But  watereth  the  earth, 
And  maketh  it  to  bring  forth  and  bud. 
That  it  may  give  seed  to  the  sower,  and  bread  to  the  eater ; 
So  sliall  my  word  be  that  goeth  forth  out  of  my  mouth : 
It  shall  not  return  unto  me  void, 
But  it  shall  accomplish  that  which  I  please, 
And  it  shall  prosper  whereto  I  sent  it." 

So  indeed  has  it  prospered  in  every  age  since  its  first 
promulgation,  and  in  every  land  to  which,  according  to 
the  Divine  purpose,  it  has  been  sent.  Thus  has  it 
prospered  in  quickening  to  life  millions  of  souls — in 
nourishing  the  Divine  life  within  these  souls.  So  has  it 
prospered  in  ruling  the  life,  in  strengthening  the  pur- 
poses, in  giving  heart  to  the  courage  of  martyrs ;  and 
patience  and  contentment,  and  a  bright  hope,  to  the 
individual  spirits  of  that  great  multitude  which  is 
gathering  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Well,  there- 
fore, may  we  spare  ourselves  the  labour  of  inquiring, 
according  to  our  small  critical  manner,  whether  the 
books  of  Scripture  are  well  adapted  to  subserve  the 
purposes  for  which  they  profess  to  be  given — namely, 
the  religious  and  moral  instruction  of  the  nations. 
These  purposes  they  have  subserved — they  are  now 
subserving — and  they  shall  continue  to  subserve,  to  the 
end  of  time  ;    and,  in  a  thne  not  remote,   shall   they 

12 


266  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

cany  light  and  life,  even  to  every  land  which  hitherto 
they  have  not  visited.* 

After  so  large,  and  so  long-continued  an  induction, 
demonstrative  of  the  efficiency  and  of  the  sufficiency  of 
the  Scriptures  for  imparting  life  to  the  souls  of  men, 
and  for  nourishing  that  life,  what  more  do  we  need  ? 
Nothing,  if  only  we  will  be  wise  and  ingenuous — as 
befits  us — discarding  an  hypothesis  which,  natural  as  it 
is,  has  no  foundation  in  reason ;  but  Avhich,  so  long  as  it 
is  adhered  to,  gives  abundant  occasion  to  infidelity,  and 
spreads  disquietude  among  ourselves.  There  is  no  need 
of  a  new  theory  of  inspiration,  or  of  a  new  principle  of 
Biblical  interpretation  ;  but  this  only  is  needed,  that 
every  hypothesis  and  theory — better  or  worse — should 
be  put  out  of  view^ — should  be  laid  aside — should  be 
forgotten.  The  mode  of  that  commingling  of  the 
Divine  and  the  human  in  Scripture,  upon  which  these 
theories  profess  to  shed  a  light,  wall  never  be  known  to 
us,  any  more  than  the  commingling  of  the  worlds  of 
mind  and  of  matter  in  the  scheme  of  animal  life  will 
become  known  to  us : — both  are  inscrutable.  Yet  we 
are  well  assured  of  the  actuality  of  both  Mind  and 
Matter  in  the  animal  system,  and  in  the  human  system 
especially.  We  know  each — distinctly  and  infal- 
libly, when  we  regard  each  as  it  is  seen  from  its  own 
ground ;  but  each  becomes  a  problem  insoluble — a 
perplexity  distracting,  when  it  is  looked  at  from  the 
ground  of  the  other.  In  the  desperate  endeavour  to 
solve  this  problem,  and  to  be  fairly  rid  of  this  per- 
plexity, w^e  first  look  in  upon  mind,  as  seen  from  the 
ground  of  the  animal  structure,  and  we  say — mind  is 

*  See  Note. 


HEBKEW    POETRY.  267 

— nothing  but  a  function  of  the  nervous  substance. 
Yet  tliis  easy  conchision  i)lunges  us  soon  into  per- 
plexities that  are  still  more  hopeless.  If  this  will  not 
do,  then  we  shift  our  ground,  and  looking  out  of  the 
window  upon  matter — upon  the  niaterhil  universe 
entire,  we  say — matter  is  a  nihility — it  is  nothing  but 
a  condition  of  thought ;  or  if  there  were  a  real  world 
beyond  us,  we  could  never  know  it.  Thus  far  the  good 
bishop  of  Cloyne.  But  it  will  not  do  ;  and  at  the  hear- 
ing of  this  paradox  there  ensues  a  riot  on  the  highways 
of  the  common  world,  and  a  doctrine  so  whimsical  is 
hooted  off  as  intolerable.  The  lynch-law  of  common 
sense  is  brought  to  bear  upon  it,  and  then  we  are  left 
where  we  were — mind  and  matter — each  resolutely 
lioldhig  its  own  as  before — philosophers  notwithstand- 
ing. What  is  needed  here  is  not  a  new  theory  of  the 
imiverse,  but  humility  enough  to  cease  asking  for  one. 

Yeiy  near  to  a  strictly  parallel  instance,  or  real  ana- 
logy, comes  the  instance  of  the  commingling  of  the 
Divine  and  the  human  in  Holy  Scripture.  It  is  quite 
true  of  the  liuman  structure — hi  a  sense^  that  it  is  all 
mind  ;  and  it  is  quite  true  of  the  same  structure — in  a 
sense^  that  it  is  all  material  organization  ;  and  if  it  be  an 
error  to  affirm  that  man  is  organization,  and  nothbtg 
else^  or  to  affirm,  on  the  other  side,  that  he  is  mind,  and 
nothing  else — a  greater  error,  and  an  error  crammed 
with  confusion,  would  it  be  to  say  of  human  nature — 
tJus  part  of  it  is  mind,  and  that  part  is  matter  ;  thus  par- 
titioning the  members,  and  dividing  the  substance. 

Take  the  case,  then,  of  Holy  Scripture — assuming 
that  the  analogy  we  here  introduce  has  some  ground  of 
reality.  Three  doctrines,  as  in  the  above  instance,  stand 
before  us : — 


268  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

1.  That  the  Inspired  Scriptures  are  wholly  Divine, 
and  notliing  else.  There  are  few  at  tliis  time  who  will 
roundly  profess  this  doctrine,  in  unqualified  terms  ;  but 
there  are  many  who  greatly  desire  to  do  so,  and  who 
would  do  it,  if  they  dared :  but  in  so  far  as  they  do  it, 
they  stand  confronted,  and  speechless,  before  the  body  of 
criticism,  which  shows  its  store  of  instances  in  proof  of 
the  contrary.  Infidelity  triumphs  in  its  antagonism  to 
this  doctrine  ;  and  it  makes  the  more  noise  on  this 
ground  because  it  can  triumph  on  no  other  ground. 
About  this  field  the  eagles  and  the  vultures  are  soaring, 
for  here  is — "  the  carcase." 

Or  Ave  may  say  (2)  that  the  Scriptures  (accounted 
Inspired)  are  wholly  human,  and  nothing  more  : — or,  to 
state  this  hypothesis  in  mitigated  terms,  that  these  excel- 
lent writings  are  inspired  just  as  all  other  good  and 
useful  books  are  inspired.  This  doctrine,  the  simplicity 
and  facility  of  which  tempt  shallow  thinkers  to  adopt  it, 
leaves  unaccounted  for  the  great  facts  of  Scripture  ; 
namely,  its  theological,  its  ethical,  and  its  historical 
portions.  To  those  who  think  more  coherently,  the 
problem  of  the  Bible,  considered  apart  from  its  super- 
natural origination,  is  a  j^roblem  that  confounds  all  rea- 
soning, and  that  renders  hopeless — indeed  impossible — 
any  induction  on  the  ground  of  history. 

Or  (3)  it  may  be  aflfirmed  that,  within  the  compass 
of  the  Canonical  Scriptures,  there  are  certain  portions 
that  are  Divine,  and  other  portions  that  are  merely 
human,  and  that  it  is  the  office  of  criticism  to  segregate 
these  intermingled  elements.  A  difficult,  as  well  as  a 
perilous  labour  this  must  be  !  AYell  we  might  ask — and 
yet  desj^air  of  receiving  an  answer  to  the  question — 
Who  is  sufficient  for  this  work  ?     Not  a  pope — not  an 


HEBREW    POETRY.  269 


CEciinuMiictil  Synod — not  a  Ivoyal  Commission  ;  not  tliis 
or  tliat  scliool  of  loarncMl  interpreters  : — nor  yet  the 
individual  ]>ible  reader  for  liiniself.  There  must  be  a 
second  inspiration  thus  to  ehcit  inspiration  from  its 
entanglements.  This  is  a  case  of  that  kind  in  which  one 
of  two  claimants  to  a  property  is  sure,  in  the  end,  to  lay 
his  hand  upon  the  whole  ;  because  the  plea  which  is 
admitted  to  be  valid  in  relation  to  the  smallest  frag- 
ment, may  be  urged,  with  equal  reason,  bit  by  bit,  in 
relation  to  every  separate  part.  On  the  other  side,  the 
claimant  who  urges  an  undefined  plea  will  be  compelled 
to  surrender  his  ground  at  each  step,  when  he  is  pushed 
to  do  so. 

But  if  we  reject  each  of  these  three  suppositions,  and 
if  we  take  instead  of  them  our  confidence  in  the  Scrip- 
tures— theories  of  inspiration  put  out  of  view — then 
shall  we  not  surround  ourselves  Avitli  perplexities  ? 
Probably  it  will  be  so  if  we  are  hypochondriacs  in  reli- 
gion :  it  will  be  so  if  the  principle  of  religious  faith  has 
suffered  paralysis  from  contact  with  sophistry. 

The  man  who  is  in  the  enjoyment  of  health  of  body, 
and  soundness  of  mind,  well  knows  that  he  has  a  body  ; 
and  he  knows  also  that  hookas  a  soul ;  and  he  knows 
that  human  nature  is  thus  constituted  of  two  diverse 
elements,  to  deny  the  reality  of  either  of  which  is  to 
plunge  into  an  abyss  of  metaphysical  contradictions.  Yet 
no  man  of  sound  mind  attempts  to  draw  a  line  of  demar- 
cation between  body  and  soul,  or  to  distinguisli  Ijetween 
mind  and  matter  in  the  working  of  human  nature;  nor 
will  he  affirm  of  any  one  part  or  function  of  the  one  that 
it  has  absolutely  no  dependence  upon  the  other.  ]>ut, 
while  unconscious  of  these  distinctions,  he  well  knows 
that  he  is  in  possession  of  a  nature  which  is  available  for 


270  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

every  purpose  of  thought  and  of  action.  This  know- 
ledge is  enough,  for,  from  the  conscious  possession  of  a 
sound  mind  and  a  Ileal  thy  body  there  arises  a  responsi- 
bility to  think  rightly,  and  to  act  riglitly  in  all  the  rela- 
tions of  life.  This  compound  human  nature,  blending, 
as  it  does,  a  spiritual  and  an  animal  structure,  carries 
with  it  an  aathorltij  which  the  man  disregards  at  his 
peril. 

And  so  it  is  in  regard  to  tlie  authority  of  Holy  Scrip, 
ture.  If  there  be  indeed  a  moral  consciousness — if  there 
be  a  spiritual  sense,  we  then  feel  and  know,  with  the 
certainty  of  an  infillible  perception,  that,  in  these  writ- 
ings— wholly  unlike  as  they  are  to  any  other  writings — 
we  are  hearing  the  voice  of  God  : — while  listening  to 
these  writers  we  are  in  communication  with  the  Father 
of  spirits.  When  we  thus  read,  and  while  we  thus 
listen,  the  soul  in  health  does  not  stay  to  put  the  futile 
and  peevish  question.  Is  this  text — is  this  passage, 
liuman  or  Divine  ?  It  is  the  patient  who  is  "  griev- 
ously tormented  with  palsy"  that  puts  this  question  to 
those  about  him,  and  to  himself,  and  gets  no  reply. 

There  are  many  questions  which  may  be  fit  for  exer- 
cising the  ingenuity  of  casuists,  a  proper  reply  to  which 
is  this — that,  the  giving  a  reply  at  all  may  well  be  post- 
poned to  a  time  when  some  instance  of  the  sort  shall  act- 
ually present  itself.  So  as  to  questions  of  this  kind — 
"What  are  we  to  do  if  a  revelation,  credibly  attested  by 
miracles,  propounds  for  our  belief,  or  for  our  practice, 
what  tniist  be  rejected  ?  What  should  be  done  in  such 
a  case  shall  be -duly  considered  when  the  occurrence  of 
an  instance  of  that  kind  has  indeed  been  established. 

Yet  there  is  a  class  of  instances  to  which  more  or  less 
of  difficulty  attaches  from  a  cause  already  referred  to — 


HEBREW    POETRY.  271 

namely,  an  assumption — gratuitous  and  unwarranted — 
concerning  tlie Divine  attributes,  or  concerning  the  modes 
of  the  Divine  intervention  in  human  aftairs.  Instances  of 
this  sort  attach  mainly  to  the  Old  Testament  Scriptures. 
Tlie  feeling  which  prompts  these  assumptions  is,  for 
the  most  part,  a  modern  feeling;  it  is  a  refinement;  it 
is  a  sentimentalism  ;  it  is  valetudinary  ;  it  is  fastidious. 
It  is  a  feeling  which  receives  its  correction,  not  merely 
from  a  larger  knowledge  of  national  usages — ancient 
and  modern  ;  hut  from  a  broader  aspect  of  human  na- 
ture. This  breadth — this  freedom — this  boldness,  is 
indeed  a  characteristic  of  the  Scriptures — Old  and  New 
Testament  equally  so.  If  the  fostidious  modern  reader 
of  the  Bible  is  himself  unconscious  of  this  freedom  and 
boldness,  it  is  because,  by  frequency  of  perusal,  he  has 
fallen  into  a  sort  of  Biblical  hypnotism^  or  artificial  slum- 
ber, under  the  influence  of  which  the  actual  meaning  of 
words  and  phrases  fails  to  rouse  attention.  This  dozing 
hal)it  may  be  well  in  its  way,  and  it  is  well  if  it  saves 
ofl:ence ;  but  no  offence  will  be  taken  by  those  who — 
l)rofoundly  conscious  of  the  awful  voice  of  God  in  the 
Scriptures,  and  immoveably  firm  in  their  belief  to  this 
extent — are  animated  by  the  courage  which  is  proper  to 
a  fervent  and  enlightened  piety  ;  and  who,  in  the  daily 
perusal  of  the  Prophetical  books  and  the  Psalms,  rejoice 
in,  and  fully  relish,  that  fearless  dealing  with  human 
nature,  and  with  its  incidents,  which  at  once  vouches 
for  the  historic  reality  of  the  record,  and  is  evidence  of 
a  power  more  than  human  pervading  the  whole.  Just 
as  the  material  world  and  the  animal  economy  has  each 
far  more  of  strenuous  force  in  it  than  we  moderns — if 
we  had  been  consulted,  would  have  allowed  it  ;  so  is  tlie 
Bible — bold — broad — strong,  in  a  degree  which  makes 


272  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

the  reading  of  it  a  trial  and  a  grievance  to  our  pale-faced 
sensibilities,  and  to  our  pampered  tastes.  The  remedy 
is  to  be  found  at  once  in  a  more  robust  mental  health, 
and  a  more  thorougli  spiritual  health. 

This  more  robust  mental  health,  combined  with  a 
deeper  spiritual  health,  shall  show  itself  in  a  liberty  of 
thought  which  indeed  is — free  thinking.  The  attend- 
ant upon  this  free  thinking  will  be  a  free  criticism ;  and 
the  two  shall  put  to  shame  as  well,  the  spurious  freedom 
of  unbelief,  as  the  spurious  criticism  which  feeds  itself 
upon  husks,  and  has  no  appetite  for  nutritious  food. 
"When  we  yield  assent  to  the  Scriptures,  as  an  authenti- 
cated Revelation,  this  assent  and  this  consent  of  the 
reason,  and  of  the  soul,  bring  with  them  an  exemption 
from  disquietudes  of  every  kind.  There  are  no  alarms 
where  the  Almighty  is  present  to  save  and  to  bless. 


CHAPTEIl  XVII. 

COXTINUANCE    OF    THE    HEBREW    POETRY    AXD    TROrilECY 

TO  THE  avorld's  end. 

The  history  of  nations  furnishes  so  many  instances  of 
the  extinction  of  intelligence  and  civilization,  and  so  few 
— if  indeed  any — of  its  jyei'manence  in  anyone  region, 
or  as  to  any  one  race  or  peoi)le,  that  the  decay  and  gra- 
dual extinction  of  the  light  of  mind  seems  to  be  the 
rule,  and  its  continuance  anywhere,  beyond  the  reach  of 
a  few  centuries,  the  exception ; — and  hitherto  this  is  not 
an  established  exception. 

This  decay,  and  almost  extinction,  has  had  place  in 
the  instance  of  each  of  the  Oriental  races.  The  people 
of  China,  and  of  Thibet,  and  of  India,  and  of  Ceylon, 
and  of  Persia,  and  of  Mesopotamia,  occupied,  in  remote 
times,  a  position  in  philosophy,  and  in  the  arts,  and  in 
social  habits,  and  in  populousness,  and  in  political  power, 
and  wealth,  which  is  very  feebly,  or  is  not  at  all,  reflected 
in  the  condition  of  the  modern  occupants  of  the  same 
regions.  The  same  must  be  affirmed  of  Egypt,  and 
Xubia,  and  Abyssinia.  The  same  also  of  the  people  of 
every  country  upon  which  the  Macedonian  kingdoms 
once  so  splendidly  flourished.  The  same,  moreover,  of 
the  countries  which  were  the  birth-fields  of  the  Arabian 
race. 

But  it  is  believed,  or  it  is  customarily  taken  for  cer- 
tain, that  our  modern  Euro|)ean  civilization  rests  upon 
12" 


271  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

n  basis  as  iininoveable  as  tliat  of  tlie  pyramids  of  Gizeli. 
It  is  tlionght  that  the  marvels  of  the  mechanic  arts,  and 
the  ready  means  which  these  arts  afford  for  the  instan- 
taneous interchange  of  knowledge,  and  the  consequent 
breadth  of  intelligence  among  the  masses  of  the  people, 
are  guarantee  sufficient  against  the  prevalence  of  brute 
despotisms,  as  well  as  against  the  insensible  encroach- 
ments of  those  sordid,  sensual,  and  brutalizing  tenden- 
cies which  are  inherent  in  human  nature.  Gladly  should 
we  all  thhik  this :  nevertheless  there  are  forebodings  of 
another  cast  which  might  easily  find  support  in  the 
actual  course  of  events  at  this  very  moment,  rind  as  well 
in  the  new  world,  as  in  the  old  world.  Might  not  then 
the  question  of  the  permanence  of  our  European  civili- 
zation be  regarded  as  a  problem  that  is  in  suspense, 
between  opposite  probabilities  ? 

The  prevailing  belief  on  the  bright  side  of  this  pro- 
blem rests,  for  the  most  part,  no  doubt,  upon  grounds 
of  secular  calculation.  It  is  imagined  to  be  inconceiv- 
able that  our  actual  civilization,  based  as  it  is  on  a 
broad  political  framework,  and  sustained  as  it  is  by  its 
philosophy,  and  its  arts,  and  aided  as  it  is  by  its 
piinting-press,  and  its  railways,  and  its  telegrai)hic 
wires,  should  ever  fall  out  of  repair,  so  as  to  become 
lumber  upon  the  field  of  the  European  and  the  Ameri- 
can populations. 

Yet  there  is  a  faith  in  the  world's  future — a  bright 
faith  also,  albeit  it  is  less  sharply  defined,  and  is  of  more 
depth,  subsisting  among  us;  and  this  faith  may  easily  be 
traced  to  its  rise  in  the  Hebrew  Scriptures.  This  sub- 
ject has  already  been  brought  forward  in  these  pages 
(Chap.  XI.)  The  Hebrew  Prophet,  we  have  said,  is 
the  man  of  hope.      The    Hebrew    Proj)hets    and   the 


HEBREW    POETRY.  275 

Psalmists  arc  the  authors  of  liope  in  regard  to  tliis 
present  mundane  economy;  and  it  is  tliey,  rather  than 
CiiiiiST  and  His  Apostles,  that,  looking  on  to  the 
remoteness  of  the  existence  of  nations,  see,  in  that  dis- 
tance— terrestrial  good;  they  see— truth  —  peace  — 
love  ;  and  they  foretell  a  social  system  at  rest.  A  last 
utterance  of  the  ancient  prediction  was  heard  overhead 
of  Bethlehem  when  the  coming  in  of  the  new  dispen- 
sation was  announced  by  a  "  multitude  of  the  heavenly 
host."  But  in  the  end — in  the  furthest  distance — the 
two  economies  shall  coincide,  and  then  there  shall  be 
great  joy  to  all  nations — "  Glory  to  God  in  the  higliest, 
and  on  earth  peace^  good-will  toward  men."  In  the 
ages  intervening — it  is  "  not  peace,  but  a  sword.'' 

The  Hebrew  Prophets  (Poets)  represent  the  mundane 
religious  economy ;  and  they  vouch  for  its  ultimate  real- 
ization in  universal  peace.  Evangelists  and  Ai:>ostles 
represent  the  economy  of  the  unseen  and  the  future ; 
and  they  vouch  for  that  immortality  in  Christ,  for  which 
the  painful  discipline  of  the  present  life  is  the  necessary 
preparation.  But  this  discipline,  and  this  life  hereafter, 
must  come  to  its  bearing  ahvays  upon  the  indi\idual 
human  spirit ;  for  it  takes  no  account  of  races — of  na- 
tions^-of  communities.  (Gal.  iii.  28;  Coloss.  iii.  11; 
1  Cor.  xii.  13.) 

Nevertheless  the  two  economies  are  not  at  variance  ; 
for  the  two  tend  in  the  same  direction,  and  they  sliall, 
in  the  end,  coalesce.  They  do  so  noin)^  inasmuch  as  the 
individual  spiritual  life  has  received  its  exemplification, 
and  its  ample  development,  within  the  compass  of  the 
poetical  books — the  Prophets  and  the  Psalms;  nor  shall 
the  individual  spiritual  life  ever  seek  to  alienate  itself 
from,  or  become  indifferent  to,  those  liturgies,  and  those 


276  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


litanies  of  the  soul,  in  its  communion  with  God.  Never 
shall  those  forms  of  praise — prayer — penitence — exulta- 
tion— those  deep  expressions  of  the  emotions  of  the 
quickened  soul,  cease  to  be — what  hitherto  they  have 
been — the  genuine  promptings  of  love,  fear,  and  hope, 
toward  God.  Futile  have  been  all  endeavours — so  often 
repeated  in  modern  times,  to  dissociate  the  two  Revela- 
tions, or  to  take  uj)  a  Christianity,  divorced  from  the 
Old  Testament.  In  each  instance  the  attempt  has  given 
evidence  of  the  absence  of  that  spiritual  consciousness 
apart  from  which  there  remains  nothing  in  Christianity 
itself  that  is  much  to  be  cared  for  ;  or  which  may  not 
be  found  in  Epictetus  and  Marcus  Aurelius,  in  nearly  as 
acceptable  a  form. 

So  far  as  the  two  economies  go  abreast  on  different 
paths,  and  so  far  as  they  have  different  objects  in  front 
of  them,  they  may  seem  to  be  dwerijent ;  but,  in  con- 
tradiction of  this  apparent  divergence,  there  occur,  in 
each,  what  might  be  termed — nodes  of  intersection,  or 
points,  where  the  two  are  coincident.  Such  a  point  of 
junction  may  be  found  in  that  signal  Messianic  predic- 
tion— the  seventy-second  Psalm  ;  if  this  be  taken  in 
connection  with  the  second  Psalm,  and  with  the  forty- 
fifth,  and  Avith  the  hundred  and  tenth.  These  odes, 
which  are  susceptible  of  none  but  the  most  vapid 
interpretation,  if  their  Messianic  import  be  rejected, 
point  in  the  same  direction,  but  not  in  the  same  manner. 
They  agree  in  foreseeing  a  mundane  empire,  ad- 
ministered from  a  centre — an  empire  wielding  irre- 
sistible material  force,  which  shall  be  coseval,  for  a 
period,  with  adverse  forces  ;  but  which  shall  trample 
upon  all,  and  at  length  be  recognized  by  all.  In  the 
second  Psalm,  and  in  the  hundred  and  tenth,  and,  in 


HEBREW    POETRY.  277 

part,  in  the  forty-fifth,  the  imagery  lias  the  aspect  of 
vindictive  force — force,  not  softened,  or  only  a  little 
softened,  by  intimations  of  clemency.  Yet  this  martial 
energy  has,  for  its  end,  right  and  truth,  and  the  esta- 
blishment of  order.  In  these  odes  there  occur  no  dis- 
tinct points  of  accordance  with  the  rules,  the  purer  pre- 
cepts, or  the  moral  intention  of  the  Christian  dispensa- 
tion. Right  and  power  shall  be  in  conjunction,  and 
the  two  which,  hitherto,  have  so  usually  been  sun- 
dered, shall  then — according  to  these  predictions — 
walk  the  earth  hand  in  hand,  for  the  terror  and  extermi- 
nation of  every  wrongful  tyranny.  This  then  is  the 
world's  future — according  to  the  Hebrew  Prophets ; 
and  who  are  they  that  do  not  exult  in  the  prospect  ? 

The  seventy-second  Psalm  allies  itself  with  the  Psalms 
above  mentioned,  as  in  the  fourth,  the  ninth,  and  the 
fourteenth  verses.  Force,  employed  in  the  maintenance 
of  right,  and  for  the  deliverance  of  the  oppressed,  is  still 
present : — the  minister  of  wrath  is  still  at  hand.  As  the 
Primus  Lictor,  with  the  formidable  fasces  on  his  shoul- 
der, stood  at  the  elbow  of  the  Roman  magistrate, 
prompt  to  inflict  death — animadvertere — upon  any  that 
should  dare  resist  the  power,  so,  in  this  prediction,  there 
are  notices  of  contemporary  wrong ;  but  then  there  is 
deliverance  at  hand,  and  the  thne  that  is  indicated  in 
this  instance  is  some  way  onward  in  the  course  of  events 
— for,  as  to  the  adverse  powers,  they  have  either  "learned 
Avisdom,"  or  they  have  fallen  to  rise  no  more. 

The  Sovereign  Right  has  now  become  a  genial  influ- 
ence— which  is  gratefully  accepted — even  as  are  "  the 
showers  of  heaven  that  water  the  earth."  Every\\'here 
shall  this  administration  of  justice  and  mercy  have 
come  to  be  commended  (ver.  15.)    All  races,  all  nations, 


278  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


shall  at  last  feel  and  acknowledge  the  blessings  of  this 

rule — 

All  shall  be  blessed  in  Him: 

All  nations  shall  call  Him  blessed. 

Not  only  from  this  realm  of  right  shall  violence  and 
wrong  be  excluded ;  but  the  hitherto  perplexing  problem 
of  the  equilibrium  of  orders  shall  at  length  have  found 
its  solution;  for  it  is  said  of  the  upper  class  that —  "like 
Lebanon'' — it  shall  be  great  and  fruitful ;  and  as  to  the 
lower  class — even  the  dense  milUons  of  cities — it  also 
"  shall  flourish  like  grass  of  the  earth" — room  enough 
shall  be  found  for  it ;  nor  shall  its  greenness  be 
grudged. 

Upon  all  these  images  of  mundane  wealth  we  here 
catch  the  mild  efi'ulgence  of  the  Gospel.  It  is  now  our 
Christianity — it  is  now  that  doctrine  of  love  to  establish 
which  the  army  of  martyrs  bled  at  the  first  (and  often 
since)  and  to  maintain  which  the  preachers  of  truth, 
through  long  centuries,  have  prophesied  in  sackcloth: 
— it  is  this  "  everlasting  Gospel"  that  at  length — 
like  a  sun,  rising  in  a  stormy  morning — has  climbed 
the  heavens,  has  hushed  the'  winds,  has  scattered 
the  thick  clouds  of  the  sky,  and  thenceforward  it 
rules  the  azure  in  the  burnin<>;  brio-htness  of  an  endless 
noon. 

The  Hebrew  Scriptures — every  way  secure  of  their 
immortality  in  a  literary  sense— are  secure  of  it  also 
as  they  are  the  expansion,  and  the  authentic  expression, 
of  the  spiritual  life — a  liturgy  of  the  communion  of 
souls  with  God : — secure  moreover,  as  they  are  the 
foreshadowing  of  tli«  Gospel,  and  of  the  coming  of  the 
Saviour  of  the  world ;  yet  this  is  not  all,  for,  embedded 
in   these   waitings — confided  to  the  Hebrew  Poetry — 


HEBREW    POETRY.  279 

are  tliose  liopcs  of  a  iimndaiic  future — peaceful  and 
beniiiii — wliicli  the  best  men  in  every  age  have  clung 
to,  and  which  they  have  used,  as  the  ground  and  reason 
of  their  sacrifices,  while  they  have  believed  that,  not 
for  themselves,  but  for  the  men  of  a  distant  time,  they 
have  spent  life,  and  have  laid  it  down. 

Effective  jihilanthropy  has  always  taken  its  spring 
from  the  ground  of  a  religious  faith  in  a  bright  future, 
of  that  sort  for  which  the  Hebrew^  Scriptures  are  our 
sole  authority.  And  as  to  this  effective,  laborious,  self- 
sacrificing  benevolence,  it  combines  whatever  is  peculiar 
to  the  Old,  with  whatever  is  peculiar  to  the  New  Testa- 
ment— taking  from  the  one  source  its  expectation  of 
mundane  national  welfare,  and  from  the  other  source 
drawing  those  powerful  motives  which  prevail  over  all 
motives,  inasmuch  as  they  draw  their  force  from  a 
belief  of  the  life  eternal. 

Thus  it  is  that  the  controversy  of  the  present  time, 
between  those  who  hold  fast  their  confidence  in  the 
historic  revelation  contained  in  the  Scriptures,  and 
those  who  reject  it,  and  who  w^ould  rid  themselves 
of  their  own  misgivings  on  its  behalf,  is  brought  to 
an  issue  on  this  ground.  There  is  a  question  concerning 
the  human  destinies — The  human  family  has  it  had  a 
known  commencement  ?  and  has  it  a  known  middle 
period  of  development  and  progress  ?  and  has  it  in 
prospect  a  known — a  predicted — ultimate  era  of  good  ? 
Is  there  in  front  of  the  nations  an  dva-Trauo'jj — is  there  a 
(fa(3l3aTi(f^og — is  there  a  time  of  refreshment,  a  season  of 
rest — a  year  of  release— a  redemption,  an  end  of  the 
reign  of  evil,  and  a  beginning  of  the  kingdom  of  God, 
on  earth  ?  If  not,  then  the  thick  veil  of  barbaric 
ignorance,   violence,   sensuality,    and    cruelty,   shall    be 


280  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


drawn  anew  over  the  nations,  and  the  world  must 
return  to  its  night  of  horrors. 

The  positions  affirmed  in  these  pages  in  behalf  of  the 
Hebrew  Scriptures  (those  of  them  especially  that  are 
poetic  in  their  style  and  structure)  are  briefly  these 
seven : — 

That  the  poetry  of  these  writings  everywhere  appears 
as  a  means  to  a  higher  end  ;  or  otherwise  stated — that 
the  poet,  whatever  may  be  his  quality  or  his  genius,  is 
always  the  Prophet  of  God,  more  than  he  is  the  poet. 

That  whatever  may  be  the  individual  characteristics 
of  each  of  these  writers,  as  a  poet,  they  teach  always  the 
same  theology,  and  they  insist  always  upon  the  same 
moral  princij^les. 

That  although,  for  the  most  j^art,  they  boldly  denounce 
the  errors  and  immoralities  of  their  contemporaries, 
they  employed  a  medium,  as  to  the  structure  of  their 
writings,  which  implies  a  reverential  acceptance,  and 
use  of  them,  on  the  part  of  the  i:)eople,  and  of  their 
rulers. 

That  amidst,  and  notAvithstanding,  all  diversities  of 
temper  and  style  in  the  men,  and  all  changes  in  the 
national  condition,  there  prevails,  from  the  first  in  the 
series  to  the  last,  an  occult  consistency  which  is 
expressive  of  what  we  have  ventured  to  speak  of  as — 
the  Historic  Personality  of  God. 

That  within  the  compass  of  the  Hebrew  Poetic 
Scriptures  there  exists — (and  in  these  writings  alone) — 
a  Liturgy,  and  a  Litany,  of  the  spiritual  life — the  life  of 
the  soul  toward  God;  this  Liturgy  being  inclusive  of 
the  forms  of  congregational  worship. 

That  the  Hebrew  Poets  and  Prophets — besides  the 
special  predictions  which  they   utter    relating   to    the 


HEBREW    POETRY.  281 

destinies  of  surrounding  nations,  and  besides  tlie 
prei)aration  which  they  make  for  tlie  advent  of  Ilim 
who  should  be  the  Saviour  of  the  world — give  a  testi- 
mony which  is  the  ground,  and  which  is  the  only 
warrant,  of  the  hopeful  anticipation  we  entertain  of  the 
issue  of  events  in  times  that  are  yet  future. 

That  it  is  thus,  while  i)redicting  a  bright  age  to  come, 
that  they  bring  into  combination  those  higher  motives 
and  purer  principles  wdiich  the  Go9^:)el  furnishes,  and  in 
the  universal  prevalence  of  which  that  bright  prospect 
shall  be  realized. 


NOTES 


Note  to  page  43. 

Many  pages  would  be  required  for  giving  even  a  very  scanty  sample 
of  those  secular  variations  of  the  religious  mind,  which  are  indicated 
by  the  style  and  the  feeling  of  commentators,  on  selected  passages  of 
Scripture.  To  collect  such  a  sample,  if  sufficient  to  answer  any  valu- 
able purpose,  would  indeed  be  a  heavy  task ;  and,  to  present  it  in  a 
useful  manner — a  task  from  which  I  must  shrink.  Instead  of  attempt- 
ing this,  I  must  be  content  to  direct  the  attention  of  any  reader  who 
may  have  leisure  and  opportunity  to  act  upon  tlie  suggestion,  to  the 
class  of  facts  which  should  be  kept  in  view  on  this  ground. 

The  varying  style  and  feeling  of  commentators  upon  Scripture  may 
be  regarded,  for  example,  as  it  is  exhibited  in  the  instance — first,  of 
the  Church  writers  of  the  Greek,  and  then  of  the  Latin  Cliurches — 
then  in  those  of  the  African  Church,  and  in  these  compared  with  the 
Rabbinical  commentators.  These  variations  would  bring;  to  view  the 
changes  that  are  taking  place,  from  one  age  to  another,  in  consequence 
of  insensible  mutations  of  the  human  mind ;  and  also,  as  indicative 
of  the  effect  of  what,  to  borrow  a  phrase  from  geology,  might  be 
called — the  catastrophes  of  religious  history.  Such  revolutions, 
namely,  as  that  of  the  Lutheran  Reformation ;  or  such  as  the  sudden 
rise  and  spread  of  Methodism  in  England ;  or  as  that  of  the  German 
Rationalism  in  the  last  century.  Any  reader  to  whom  the  patristic 
volumes  are  accessible  may,  if  he  so  please,  turn  to  the  places  indi- 
cated below,  as  samples  only  of  what  is  here  intended.  Let  then  tlie 
sample  be  the  manner  in  whicli  Christian  commentators  have  met  the 
difficulty  which  presents  itself  in  that  imprecatory  Psalm,  the  136th — 
"  Happy  shall  he  be,"  &g.  Origen  brings  this  passage  forwards  as  an 
instance,  among  several  others,  proving  the  necessity  of  that  rule  of 


HEBREW    POETRY.  288 

spiritual  interpretation  which  understands  the  Old  Testament  histories 
always,  and  only,  in  a  symbolical  sense: — If  not  (vol.  i.  p.  41. 
Benedictine)  what  shall  we  say  to  the  polygamy  of  the  patriarchs, 
and  to  other  similar  instances,  or  to  that  of  tlie  vindictive  utterances 
of  that  Psalm,  which  would  seem  to  recommend  or  sanction  the  indul- 
gence of  vindictive  passions — "Filia  liabylonis  misera  :  beatus  qui 
retribuet  tibi,  &c.?"  In  like  manner  does  he  argue  with  Celsus  (vol.  i. 
p.  710) — he  says: — The  "little  ones"  of  Babylon — the  "babes,"  are 
those  new-born  urchins  of  evil  in  our  own  hearts,  which  good  men 
will  be  prompt  to  destroy: — this  oft'spring  of  Babylon — confusion — 
the  heads  of  which,  while  young,  must  be  dashed  against  the  stones  1 
The  same  ingenious  mode  of  exposition — clearing  a  difficulty  at  a 
leap — is  enlarged  upon  in  another  place  (vol.  ii.  p.  348): — The  baby 
concupiscences  meet  their  fate  when  their  little  brains  are  dashed  out 
against  the  rock — "  Petra  autem  est  Christus."  The  same  occurs  in 
several  different  places: — it  is,  in  this  Father's  view,  the  undoubted 
meaning  of  the  Psalm :  (so  again,  vol.  ii.  p.  433 ;  and  vol.  iii.  p.  313.) 
In  nearly  the  same  strain  writes  St.  Augustine  (Exposition  of  this 
Psalm) ;  yet  with  a  difference  marking  the  feeling  of  the  Church  toward 
its  late  enemies — persecutors  and  heretics : — In  any  case  the  "  Rock," 
upon  which  either  infant  carnal  suggestions  or  Babylonish  errors  are 
to  meet  their  end,  is,  Christ.  In  a  sounder  style  St.  Chrysostom 
(Exposition  of  this  Psalm)  contends  with  the  apparent  difficulty  ftxirly, 
and  he  alleges  what  may  be  accepted  as  a  sufficient  explanation  in 

clearing   it   up  :    he   says rroAXa    yap   oi   Trpoipnrat   ovk   oiKuOev   (pGcyyovTdi, 

dWa   ra   iripciiv   nddr)   ^irjyovfiwot,  kuI   £ij   fiiaov  (pipovreq  :    but,    he   adds,  If 

instead  of  the  passionate  utterances  of  the  captives  at  Babylon — 
wliose  language  of  exasperation  the  Psalmist  only  re]}oris — you  would 
know  what  is  his  own  inner  mind,  j^ou  have  it  in  those  words  (Ps. 
vii.) — "  If  I  have  rewarded  evil,  &c."  In  a  passage  which  has  frequently 
been  quoted,  of  late,  in  which  St.  Jerome  confesses  the  anguish  of  his 
soul,  so  often  endured  in  the  parched  wilderness,  arising  from  the 
inroads  of  worldly  and  luxurious  recollections  (Epist.  ad  Eustochium) 
he  gives,  like  Origan,  the  symbolic  interpretation  to  the  vindictive 
passage  in  this  Psalm  ;  and  so  this  strange  conceit  continued  to  be  in 
favour  with  the  ascetics  to  a  late  age.  The  babes  of  Babylon  are,  this 
Father  says,  "  the  ever  new-born  desires  of  the  flesh — and  the  rock 
upon  which  they  are  to  be  dashed  is  Christ."     And  thus  also  Civssian 


284  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

(p.  144): — "Kxurgeiites  primCim  cogitationes  carnales  illico  repel- 
lendas  esse  .  .  ,  et  duin  adliuc  parvuli  sunt,  allidere  lilios  Babylonis 
ad  petram."  So  it  will  be  everywhere  and  always,  where  and  when 
Biblical  exposition  takes  its  course,  unchecked  by  criticism.  Easy 
would  it  be  to  furnish  illustrations  of  this  fact  drawn  from  sources  not 
so  remote  as  the  patristic  times,  or  the  middle  ages.  The  properly 
religious  and  spiritual  use  of  Holj'  Scripture  needs  a  near-at-hand 
counteractive  or  corrective  criticism,  apart  from  which  the  most  dan- 
gerous species  of  perversion  or  even  of  sacrilege  does  not  fail  to  be 
fallen  into.  The  religious  Bible-reader  may  well  invite  criticism  to  do 
its  office ;  but  it  must  be  religious  criticism ;  not  that  of  those  who 
appear  to  be  wholly  destitute  of  faith  and  piety. 

Note  to  jJcige  75. 

Why  did  not  Herodotus  describe  to  us  the  Al-Kuds — the  Holy  Ciiy^ 
ivhich  he  visited?  The  supposition  that  the  Cadytus  of  Herodotus 
was  Jerusalem  has  been  generally  admitted  as  probable ;  but  it  has 
recently  been  called  in  question,  as  by  others,  so  b}'-  Dr.  Rawlinson 
(Herodotus,  vol.  ii  p.  246.)  A  discussion  of  this  question,  in  relation 
to  which  no  direct  evidence  can  be  adduced  on  either  side,  would  be 
out  of  place  in  these  notes.  I  wish  only  to  state  that  I  am  aware  of 
a  contrary  opinion,  especially  of  that  of  so  competent  a  writer  as  Dr. 
Rawlinson,  who  thinks  that  it  was  Gaza,  not  Jerusalem,  which  Hero- 
dotus intends. 

Note  to  page  93. 

The  comparative  copiousness  of  languages — the  Hebrew  especially. 

A  language  which  would  deserve  to  be  called  scanty  or  poor  in  its 
vocabulary,  especially  in  the  class  of  words  denoting  the  objects  of 
nature,  will  give  evidence  of  this  poverty  in  translations  from  itself 
into  a  more  copious  language :  it  will  do  so  in  one  of  these  two  modes, 
namely,  either  the  translation  would  itself  be  as  bald  and  poor  as  the 
original;  or,  if  itself  rich  and  copious,  it  will  be  found  to  have 
employed  many  more  words  than  are  found  in  the  original : — that  is 
to  say,  where  in  the  original  the  same  word  occurs,  five  times  or  more, 
on  similar  occasions,  because  the  writer  had  no  better  choice,  the 
translator  into  a  copious  language,  who  has  a  better  choice,  is  able 
easily  to  improve  upon  hi.s  author,  and  to  give  to  hia  version  an  opu- 


HEBREW    POETRY.  285 

lence  which  he  did  not  find  in  his  original.  Tried  on  this  principle, 
it  will  not  appear  that  the  Ilebrew  language,  as  compared  with 
the  Latin,  or  with  the  Greek,  or  with  the  English,  or  with  otiier 
modern  languages,  gives  any  indication  of  this  deficiency  of  words. 
In  this  note  I  can  attempt  nothing  more  than,  as  mentioned  in  the 
text,  to  indicate  one  method  among  others,  in  which  an  inquiry  of 
this  kind  might  be  pursued. 

Take  as  an  instance  the  G5th  Psalm,  which  is  a  rich  descriptive  ode. 
Tt  will  be  recollected  that,  in  ascertaining  the  number  of  words  occur- 
ring in  any  one  composition,  or,  as  we  say,  the  glossanj  of  thai  single 
coinposiiion,  the  Hebrew  affixes  and  suffixes  give  rise  to  a  difficulty, 
which  however  is  not  insurmountable ;  yet  it  is  sufficient  to  be 
adduced  in  explanation  of  what  might  seem  an  erroneous  reckoning, 
to  some  small  extent.  In  the  Ilebrew  text  of  this  Psalm  there  occur 
— including  affixed  prepositions,  and  suffixed  pronouns — 137  words : 
but  the  absolute  words — particles  put  out  of  view — are  118.  In  the 
Latin  of  the  Yulgate,  rejecting  particles  corresponding  to  those 
rejected  in  reckoning  the  Hebrew,  about  ninety  words  are  employed, 
as  equivalents  for  the  118  of  the  original  If  we  now  turn  to  the 
Greek  of  the  Septuagint,  reckoned  in  a  similar  manner,  there  occur 
eighty-two  words,  which  stand  as  the  representatives  of  the  Hebrew, 
as  above  said.  Consequently,  several  of  these  Greek  words  must 
have  done  service  for  two,  three,  or  more  distinctive  Hebrew  words: 
— as  we  find  three  English  words  (mentioned  in  the  text,  p.  92)  repre- 
senting eight  or  ten  in  the  Hebrew.  Whether  the  Greek  translators 
might  not  have  given  a  better  choice  of  words,  in  this  instance,  is  not 
now  the  question ;  probably  thej''  might;  but  at  least  the  presumption 
is.  that  the  Hebrew,  as  compared  with  the  Greek  language,  in  tlie 
class  of  descriptive  words,  does  not  fall  far  short  of  the  Greek  as  to  its 
copiousness. 

The  authorized  English  version  of  this  Psalm  emploj's,  as  does  the 
Hebrew,  137  words,  from  which  number,  throwing  off,  as  above,  par- 
ticles, expletives,  and  the  like,  the  words  substantive  {i.  e.  nouns  sub- 
stantive, nouns  adjective,  and  verbs)  may  be  reckoned  as  ninety;  this 
number  standing  for  the  118  of  the  original.  We  should  not  there- 
fore be  warranted  in  affirming  that  the  Hebrew  language  is  poor,  as 
compared  with  our  own  ;  an  inference  of  another  kind  is  warrantable 
— namcrly,  this,  that  this  language,  if  we  were  in  possession  of  a  com- 


286  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

plete  Copia  Verhorum — an  absolute  Hebrew  Lexicon — as  we  are  of 
the  Greek  and  Latin,  would  well  stand  comparison  with  either  of 
them,  at  least  in  respect  of  those  classes  of  words  of  which  poets 
have  occasion  to  avail  themselves.  The  Hebrew  would  no  doubt 
appear  to  be  deficient  in  abstract  philosophic  terras,  in  those  technical 
phrases  which  indicate  artificial  modes  of  life,  and  the  practice  of  the 
arts;  and  in  the  entire  class,  so  large  as  it  is,  of  words  modified — 
extended — contracted,    or  intensified,  by  tne  prefixed  prepositions. 

Any  one  who  may  be  so  inclined,  might,  with  little  labour,  carry  out 
the  above-suggested  mode  of  comparison,  in  the  instance  of  the  several 
European  versions  of  the  Psalms.  Instead  of  the  65th  Psalm,  take 
the  50th,  which  has  252  words  in  the  Hebrew — reckoned  at  140  ;  or 
the  91st,  which  has  170 — reckoned  at  97;  or  the  38th  chapter  of  Job, 
including  403  words — its  absolute  glossary,  say — 205. 

Notd  to  page  130. 
The  book  of  Ecclesiastes  may  seem  to  be  an  exception  to  what  is 
here  affirmed ;  and  it  is  so,  in  so  far  as  the  great  controversy  concern- 
ing the  wisdom  that  is  earthly,  and  the  wisdom  that  is  heavenly,  is 
argued,  as  if  on  even  ground,  between  the  advocates  of  each.  The 
problem  is  stated,  and  it  is  discussed,  for  some  time,  as  if  it  wore 
undeterminable.  "  There  is  a  vanity  which  is  done  upon  the  earth  ; 
that  there  be  just  men,  unto  whom  it  happeneth  according  to  the 
work  of  the  wicked ;  again,  there  be  wicked  men,  to  whom  it  happeneth 
according  to  the  work  of  the  righteous:  I  said  that  this  also  is  vanity." 
This  apparent  misdirection  of  events,  as  men  must  judge  of  them,  is  a 
vanity — it  is  a  confusion — it  is  a  whirl,  which  makes  meditation  giddy. 
Nevertheless,  evenly  balanced  as  this  argument  may  seem,  it  is  not 
left  in  an  undetermined  state  at  the  last: — the  disputants  are  not 
allowed,  both  of  them,  to  boast  a  judgment  in  his  favour.  Most  deci- 
sively is  the  disputation  brought  to  its  close  on  the  side  of  piety  in 
the  last  sentences: — "  Let  us  hear  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter." 
It  is  the  same  in  that  other  remarkable  instance — the  73rd  Psalm,  in 
which  the  perplexed  and  discomforted  writer  confesses,  with  mingled 
grief  and  shame,  the  prevalence,  too  long,  of  his  rankling  meditations. 
But  he  had  already  recovered  his  footing;  and  thus  he  prefixes  his 
concltision : — "  Truly  (notwithstanding  any  appearance  to  the  contrary) 
truly  God  is  good  to  Israel,  even  to  such   as  are  of  a  clean  heart.'" 


HEBKEW    POETRY.  287 

If  in  this  instance  there  may  have  been  a  debated  question,  it  is  a 
question  already  answered ;  and  the  answer  lias  been  assented  to. 
Ill  Ezekiel  this  same  argument—it  is  mainly  the  same — is  determined 
ill  another  manner  (chap,  xxxiii.)  and  the  grounds  of  doubt  are  dif- 
ferent. There  is  here  a  peremptory  affirmation  of  the  rectitude  of  the 
Divine  government,  if  its  final  adjudications  are  taken  into  the 
account.  Of  the  same  import  is  the  expostulation  which  occupies  the 
eighteenth  chapter ;  and  in  this  course  of  reasoning — this  Tiieodicraa 
— the  awards  of  a  future  judgment  are  undoubtedly  understood ;  and 
so  in  a  similar  passage — Malachi  iii.  13-18. 

Note  to  page  156. 
Asks  a  sacrifice  of  the  body  and  of  the  soul.  "  If  ye  be  reproached 
for  the  name  of  Christ,  happy  are  ye.  .  .  .  If  any  suffer  as  a  Christian, 
let  him  not  be  ashamed"  (on  that  account).  As  to  those  "  that  suffer 
according  to  the  will  of  God,  let  them  commit  the  keeping  of  their 
souls,  as  to  a  faithful  Creator,  in  well  doing."  Thus  speaks  St.  Peter ; 
and  thus  the  author  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  in  recounting  the 
martyrdoms  of  earlier  times,  says  of  tlie  martyrs  that  they  "  died  in 
faith."  in  faith  of  "  a  better  resurrection."  And  so  Christ,  in  prepar- 
ing His  people  for  the  fiery  trial  that  was  in  prospect,  says — "  Fear 
not  them  that  kill  the  body,  but  after  that  have  nothing  more  that 
they  can  do."  It  was  on  this  ground  that  tlie  martyrdoms  of  the 
early  centuries,  and  those  of  later  times  as  well,  were  nobly  endured. 
And  it  was  thus  that  '•  the  hope  set  before  us  in  the  Gospel"  was  at  the 
first  confirmed  : — thus  was  it  sent  forward  to  all  times  ensuing;  and 
thus  again  must  it  be,  if  ever  again  Christian  men  and  women,  ay 
such,  shall  be  called  to  bear  testimony,  on  the  rack  and  in  the  flames 
— to  their  hope  in  Christ.  But  no  such  value  as  this,  wliicli  ii  actually 
bears,  could  have  attaclied  to  Christian  martyrdom,  if  it  did  not  stand 
out  as  an  exceptive  instance,  broadly  distinguishable  from  all  other 
instances  of  suffering,  inflicted  by  others.  In  respect  of  such  suffer- 
ings, or  such  occasions  of  mortal  antagonism  between  man  and  man 
— or  between  nations,  the  powerful  instincts  of  human  nature  take 
their  course,  needing  to  be  ruled  always,  and  curbed,  and  repressed, 
by  those  Christian  principles  which  forbid  revenge,  and  forbid  espe- 
cially the  harbouring  of  resentments,  or  the  cherishing,  as  a  sweet 
morsel,  some  vindictive  purpose.    Cliristianity  deals  in  a  special  manner 


288  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

v/ith  the  case  of  suffering /t>r  the  truth — for  the  word  of  Christ;  but  it 
deals  universally,  by  its  law  of  love,  and  of  self-denial,  with  those 
impulses  that  are  properly  natural,  and  apart  from  which  neither  the 
life  of  individuals,  nor  the  existence  of  communities,  could  be  secured. 
The  Christian  man  will  not  attempt  to  exscind  the  irascible  emotions ; 
but  he  will  strive  to  master  them,  in  like  manner  as  he  governs  the 
animal  appetites. 

As  to  the  presence  and  operation  of  these  vindictive  emotions  dur- 
ing the  pros-Christian  ages,  a  freer  scope  was  then  allowed  them,  and 
men  who  were  virtuous  and  wise  spoke  and  acted  in  a  manner  which 
we  of  this  time  have  learned  greatly  to  modify ;  we  have  so  learned 
this  better  lesson — jmrtly  in  consequence  of  the  broad  Christiauization 
that  has  had  place  throughout  the  European  nations ;  and  partly  also 
by  a  not  reprehensible  confounding  of  the  martyr-doctrine  of  Christ 
with  the  universal  Christian  principle  of  self-restraint  and  moderation. 

A  confusion  of  this  sort,  natural  as  it  is,  and  especially  so  in  the 
case  of  highly  sensitive  Christian  persons,  has  taken  effect  in  render- 
ing the  martial  tone  of  some  of  the  Psalms,  and  the  vindictive  lan- 
guage of  others  of  them,  a  sore  trial  to  peace-loving,  gentle-hearted 
modern  Bible  readers.  The  trial  is  the  more  severe,  because  those 
modes  of  evading  the  difficulty  which  the  patristic  expositors  had 
recourse  to,  would  not,  at  this  time,  seem  to  us  tolerable. 

Few  indeed  among  us  would  accept,  as  good  and  true,  the  symbolic 
expositions  of  Origen,  or  those  of  Augustine,  of  which  a  sample  has 
been  given  in  a  preceding  note.  If  a  caution  were  needed  against 
fanciful  interpretations  of  this  order,  we  might  adduce  this  last- 
named  Father's  exposition  of  the  149th  Psalm.  It  fills  several  pages, 
and  no  doubt  it  exhibits  much  ingenuity,  as  well  as  a  right  Christian 
feeling: — '*  Jam,  fratres,  videtis  sanctos  armatos:  adtendite  strages; 
adtendite  gloriosa  prselia,  ....  Quid  fecerunt  isti  habentes  in  mani- 

bus  frameas  bis  acutas  ?     Ad  faciendam  vindictara  in  gentibus 

Quomodo,  inquies,  pagani  occiduntur?  Quomodo,  nisi  c\im  Christiani 
fiunt  ?  Qusero  paganum  ?  non  invenio,  Christianus  est  I  Ergo  mor- 
tuus  est  paganus.  .  .  .  Unde  ipse  Saulus  occisus  est  persecutor,  et 
Paulus  erectus  est  prtedicator  ?  Quaro  Sauhim  persecutorem,  et  non 
invenio;  occisus  est."  Much  is  there  to  tlie  same  purpose  in  this, 
and  in  the  parallel  places ;  but  this  method  could  not  now  be  accepted. 
Let  it  be  granted  that,  in  such  instances,  there  is  indeed  a  spiritual 


HEBREW    POETRY.  289 

meaning— a  meaning  liidden  and  intended:  but  no  doubt  there  was  a 
primary  meaning ;  and  it  is  tliis  primary  meaning  which  tlie  modern 
expositor  should  hold  himself  bound  to  place  in  its  true  historic  light, 
lie  will  then  be  at  liberty  to  adduce,  at  his  best  discretion,  the  ulterior 
meaning  of  the  passage. 

Koie  to  page  170. 
Sicilian  cattle-keepers.  I  have  already  affirmed  my  belief  (Chapter 
XY.)  that  comparisons  attempted  between  the  Hebrew  poets,  and 
those  of  Greece,  can  scarcely  in  any  case  be  valid  or  available  in 
a  critical  sense ;  for  besides  other  grounds  of  difference,  which  are 
many  and  obvious,  there  is  this  one,  which  should  at  once  preclude 
any  such  endeavours  to  ascertain  the  relative  merits  of  the  two  litera- 
tures:— in  the  one  an  artistic  excellence  is  aimed  at,  and  the  poet  did 
his  best  to  secure  an  award  of  admiration  from  his  contemporaries ; 
the  Hebrew  poets  give  proof  of  a  lofty  indifference  to  everything 
resembling  literary  fame.  The  reference  to  Theocritus  has  this  mean- 
ing, that  this  poet's  literal,  graphic,  unideal,  exhibitions  of  rude  Sici- 
lian life,  throughout  which  a  sense  of  the  beauty  of  Nature,  and  of 
the  sweetness  of  country  life,  barely  appears,  would  place  him  in 
a  position  of  disadvantage  by  the  side  of  the  Canticle  of  Solomon, 
the  charm  of  which  is  the  vividness  of  this  feeling  toward  Nature ; 
and  beside  this,  there  is  the  warmth,  the  softness,  the  delicacy,  the 
fondness  of  those  feelings — properly  conjugal,  which  come  up  in  each 
strophe.  Moreover,  the  erotic  idyls  of  Theocritus— like  those  of  his 
imitator — are  damaged  by  a  putrid  stain  from  which — let  it  be  noted 
— the  Hebrew  poetry — universally — as  well  as  this  Canticle,  is  abso- 
lutely and  wholly  free. 

Note  to  page  172. 
....  a  passage  cited  from  the  book  of  Ecclesiasies.  Neither  in 
these  pages,  nor  in  any  other  of  my  writings,  have  I  professed  myself 
competent  to  enter  upon  discussions  relating  to  the  date  or  authorship 
of  the  separate  books  included  in  the  Canon.  Disclaiming  any  such 
qualiticationg,  I  am  shielded  from  blame,  as  toward  the  Canon,  in 
offering  an  opinion  of  that  casual  sort  which  any  attentive  reader  of 
the  Scriptures  may  well  think  himself  at  liberty  to  propound.  The 
date  and  authorship,  and  consequently  the  strict  canonicity  of  the  book 


290  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 


of  Ecclesiastes,  I  leave  to  be  discussed  among  tliose  whose  professional 
learning  fits  them  to  engage  in  an  argument  of  that  sort.  At  a  first 
glance  the  passage  cited — "I gat  me  men-singers,  and  women-singers, 
and  the  delights  of  the  sons  of  men — musical  instruments,  and  that  of 
all  sorts,"  suggests  the  idea  of  a  time  much  later  in  Jewish  life  than  the 
age  of  Solomon.  It  is  not  that  tlie  practice  of  music — vocal  and  instru- 
mental— had  not  reached  a  stage  of  great  advancement  in  tliat  age  ;  for 
we  must  believe  that  it  had ;  but  there  does  not  appear  evidence  in 
support  of  the  opinion  that  music  had  been  secularized  at  so  early  a 
time;  or  that  concerts  had  come  to  hold  a  place  in  the  routine  of  the 
amusements  of  the  harem.  If  a  passage  in  Ezekiel  (xxxiii.  32)  might 
be  understood  as  implying  a  practice  of  music,  not  sacred  or  litur- 
gical, this  evidence  touches  upon  a  time  as  late  as  the  Captivity. 

Note  to  page  200. 

Isaiah  ....  our  master  in  the  school  of  the  highest  reason. 

This  is  a  broad  affirmation  which  is  likely  to  be  rejected  and  resented. 
But  whoever  does  so  reject  and  resent  what  is  here  affirmed  in  behalf 
of  the  Hebrew  prophet,  should  be  prepared,  not  merely  with  a  naked 
contradiction  of  the  averment,  but  with  a  list  of  names  from  among 
which  we  might  easily  find  another  and  a  better  teacher,  in  the 
school  of  divine  philosophy.  The  production  of  any  such  list  may  be 
a  more  difficult  task  than  those  imagine  who  would  be  prompt  to 
profess  that  it  might  be  accomplished  in  a  moment. 

There  is  a  preliminary  work  to  be  done  on  this  ground ;  for  among 
the  names  that  will  instantly  occur  to  every  one  who  is  conversant 
Avith  the  history  of  philosophy  many  must  be  excluded  from  any  such 
catalogue  on  a  ground  of  exception  that  is  quite  valid;  as  thus — when 
we  are  in  search  of  those  who  might  fairly  dispute  with  the  Hebrew 
prophet  his  place  at  the  head  of  theistic  thought,  we  must  not  name, 
as  if  they  were  his  rivals,  any  of  those  who,  in  fact,  have  sat  at  his 
feet,  and  who  achieved  whatever  they  may  have  achieved  by  building 
upon  the  Hebrew  foundation.  In  abstract  philosophy  the  advantage 
is  incalculably  great  of  starting  in  a  right  direction  ;  whether  or  no 
the  best  path  over  the  ground  be  afterwards  followed.  This  ground 
of  exception  will  at  once  reduce  our  liberty  of  choice  to  a  very  few 
names.  The  long  series  of  theologians — philosophical  or  biblical — 
who  have   received  their  early   training  witliin  the  pale  of  either 


HEBREW    POETRY.  291 

Jewish  or  Christian  institutions,  have  set  out — capital  in  hand:  as 
well  intellectually,  as  morally,  they  have  been  providL-d  with  tlio 
materials  and  the  terms  of  theistic  speculation  ;  and  not  only  so,  for 
every  habitude  of  mental  labour  has  been  acquired  and  matured  under, 
and  amidst,  Bible  influences.  Those  primary  elements  of  religious 
speculation  which  include  the  idea  and  the  belief  of  the  Personality 
of  God,  and  of  His  moral  government,  and  of  the  emotional  relation- 
ship of  the  human  spirit  to  God — the  Father  of  spirits,  and  the 
Hearer  of  prayer — all  these  elements  are,  in  the  most  exclusive  sense 
— Hebrew  elements :  it  is  in  these  writings  that  tliey  first  occur :  and  it 
is  within  these  writings  that  they  have  received  an  expression  and  an 
expansion  beyond  wliich  no  advance  has  since  been  made,  anywhere, 
within  the  range  of  literature — ancient  or  modern.  Moreover,  the.se 
primary  elements  of  theology  and  of  piet}--  are  of  such  force  in  them- 
selves, and  they  so  hold  their  sway  over  the  human  intellect  and 
feelings,  when  once  they  have  been  admitted,  that  to  disengage  the 
mind  from  their  grasp  is  exceedingly  difficult — it  is  a  wrenching  elibrt 
to  which  very  few  have  been  equal,  even  among  the  most  resolute 
and  robust  of  modern  sophists. 

Those  therefore  who  might  be  named  as  our  masters  in  theology, 
or  a  philosophy  which  might  supplant  theology,  must  be  sucli  as  have 
either  lived  and  taught  far  remote  from  any  glimmer  of  Biblical  light, 
or  they  must  be  those,  if  indeed  there  be  any  .such,  who,  living  within 
the  circle  of  that  light,  have  freed  themselves  entirely  from  its  influence, 
llow  difficult  it  has  been  to  do  so  is  shown  by  the  exti-avagance — by 
that  style  of  paradox — by  the  hyperbolic  endlessness  in  speculation, 
which  have  marked  the  course  of  modern  atheistic  philosophy  in 
CJermany,  France,  and  England.  It  has  not  been  otiierwi.se  than  as 
by  a  convulsive  out-leap  from  the  ground  of  Biblical  belief,  that  men 
like  Feuerbach,  or  Hegel,  or  Auguste  Compte.  or  Tlolyoake,  or  Geo. 
Combe,  have  landed  themselves  upon  the  howling  wilderness  of  base- 
less abstractions — or  "  free  thought." 

The  atheistic  thinkers  of  classical  antiquity  are  comparatively  mild 
in  mood;  the}' are  for  the  most  part  free  from  acrimony:  they  stop 
short  of  nihilism,  and  they  retain  some  ground  of  conlidence  in  the 
foundations  of  knowledge.  The  ancient  Pyrrhonists  stand  in  a  light 
of  great  advantage,  as  to  temper  and  style,  when  placed  by  the  side 
of  tlie   modern   professors  of  atheism.     In  fact,  this  comparison  sug- 


292  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

gests  the  need  of  another  term  which  modern  languages  do  not 
supply;  for  the  word  atheist  has  acquh'ed  an  ill  sense  from  the  malign 
mood  of  those  who  would  declare  themselves  at  one  with  the  non- 
theists,  or  with  the  universal  sceptics,  of  antiquity.  Whence  haa 
come  this  opprobrious  or  sinister  meaning  of  the  word  ?  It  may  be 
said  it  has  come  from  the  contumelious  style,  and  the  ill  temper  of 
their  opponents,  namely — Christian  theists.  In  part  it  may  be  so ; 
but  not  wholly,  nor  chiefly,  for  the  opprobrium  has  been  earned  by 
those  to  whose  names  it  has  come  to  be  attached :  a  savour  of  virulence 
has  become  the  characteristic  of  writers  of  this  class ;  and  if  we  ask 
why  it  should  be  so,  the  reason  is  not  far  to  seek — modern  non-tlieists 
have  not  been  able  to  distance  themselves  far  enough  from  the  true 
theology — the  Biblical  theology,  to  relieve  themselves  from  an  uneasy 
consciousness  of  its  presence.  So  it  has  been  that  the  simple  negation 
of  belief  has  taken  to  itself  the  temper  of  a  growling  hatred.  The 
classic  fathers  of  the  same  philosophy  were  tormented  in  no  such 
manner  as  this;  and  therefore  they  conserved  their  philosophic  equa- 
nimity. It  was  not  until  the  time  when  the  easy-tempered  atheism 
of  antiquity  came  into  conflict  with  Christianity,  as  in  Porphyry  (if 
we  may  accept  the  evidence  of  his  opponents)  that  it  acquired  its 
animiui — its  sharp  arrogance,  and  its  resentful  dogmatism. 

When  it  is  aflBrmed,  as  it  has  been  affirmed  once  and  again  in  these 
pages,  that  the  Hebrew  theology  is  the  only  theology  which  might  be 
propounded  to  mankind  as — a  religion,  an  appeal  in  support  of  this 
averment  may  be  made,  on  the  one  hand,  to  the  unvarying  issue  of 
all  philosophical  speculation  whicii  opposes  itself  to  the  Biblical 
theism :  this  issue  has  been  Pantheism,  or  avowed  Atheism  ;  or,  on 
the  other  hand,  we  might  appeal  to  the  many  attempts  that  have  been 
made  to  establish,  or  to  demonstrate  a  theism  of  abstractions,  on  the  side 
of  Biblical  belief,  or  in  supposed  confirmation  of  it.  A  sufficient 
instance  of  what  may  be  looked  for  on  this  ground  is  the  noted  Demon- 
stration of  the  Being  and  the  Attributes  of  God.  We  need  not  cite  the 
acknowledgments  of  several  strong-minded  Christian  theists  who  have 
avowed  their  dissatisfaction  with  Clarke's  line  of  abstract  reasoning. 
It  is  enough  to  say  that,  although  reasonings  of  this  order  may  help 
the  belief  of  a  few  believers — much  as  sea-breezes  and  sea-bathing 
enhance  the  health  of  those  who  are  in  health — this  Demonstration 
avails  little  or  nothing  with   any  but  the  few  whose  minds  are  so 


HEBREW    POETRY.  293 

constituted  as  to  find  rest  on  metaphysic  ground.  Certain  it  is  that  a 
RdUjion  for  niankind  never  lias  been  set  a-going  upon  the  stilts  of 
metaphysical  logic:  who  then  shall  be  enthusiast  enough,  in  future,  to 
attempt  an  enterprise  of  this  order?  There  never  has  been — there 
never  will  be,  a  religion — no,  nor  a  theology — of  abstractions. 
There  will  be  no  other  religious  theism  than  that  of  which  the  Hebrew 
Scriptures  are  the  source.  Thus  it  is  therefore — taking  a  distinguished 
individual  of  a  class  as  its  representative,  that  even  now  in  this 
nineteenth  century  we  claim  for  Isaiah  the  position  due  to  him  as  our 
master  in  the  school  of  the  highest  reason. 

Note  to  page  212. 
Metrical  structure  of  the  Lamentations.  In  part  the  highly  artificial 
structure  of  these  poems  is  conspicuous  even  in  the  English  version 
(or  indeed  in  any  other  version).  Each  verse  has  two,  three,  or  four 
members,  or  sentences,  in  apposition ;  which  together  constitute  the 
one  meaning  or  sense,  of  the  verse,  irrespectively,  often,  of  the 
meaning  of  the  preceding,  or  of  the  next  following  verse.  Where, 
as  in  several  places,  the  meaning  is  continuous,  from  triplet  to  triplet, 
yet  there  presents  itself  a  break,  or  change,  more  or  less  manifest. 
Thus  for  the  metrical  structure  gives  evidence  of  itself  in  a  trausla- 
tion  ;  but  not  so  the  acrostic  or  alliterative  rule,  which  of  course  can 
be  seen  only  in  the  Hebrew.  Throughout  the  poetical  books,  gene- 
rally, the  modern  division  of  chapters  is  arbitrary  or  accidental,  and 
it  is  often  disregardful  of  the  sense  and  connection  of  passages ;  but 
in  the  Lamentations  this  division  into  five  portions,  or  independent 
poems,  rests  upon  the  alphabetic  structure  of  each  portion ;  unless  it 
might  be  said  that  the  third  chapter,  with  its  sixtj'-six  verses,  would 
better  have  been  divided  into  three.  The  first  chapter,  with  its 
twenty-two  verses,  correspondmg  to  the  letters  of  the  Hebrew  alpha- 
bet, each  letter  taking  its  turn  to  stand  first  in  the  verse.  So  the 
second  chapter.  The  third  has  its  three  alphabetic  series— sixty-six 
in  all.  The  fourth,  twenty-two ;  the  fifth,  twenty-two.  As  well  the 
regularity  of  this  structure,  as  the  few  instances  of  departure  from  it, 
convey  a  meaning  which  may  be  noted  ;  but  the  probable  reasons,  in 
each  instance,  whether  arising  from  the  requirements  of  the  nljiluihetic 
rule,  or  from  the  higher  requirements  of  the  suhject-malttr,  could  not 
be  set  forth  otherwise  than  in  adducing  the  Ilebrow  text,  and  in   fol- 


294  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

lowing  a  track  of  probable  conjecture  as  to  what  might  have  been 
tlie  choice  of  words,  or  the  no-choice,  in  each  instance  in  which  a 
de[)arture  from  the  exact  metrical  rule  occurs.  In  the  instance  of 
the  119th  Psalm — the  structure  of  which  is  quite  dillerent — the  want 
of  a  sufficient  choice  of  words,  suitable  for  the  initial  word  of  eight 
verses,  is  indicated  by  the  recurrence  of  the  same  word,  two,  three,  or 
four  times,  in  each  compartment,  or  strophe.  An  accomplished 
Hebraist,  whose  ready  recollection  of  the  copia  verhorum  of  the 
language  might  enable  him  to  do  so,  would  not,  perhaps,  find  it  very 
difficult  to  trace  what  we  may  allowably  call  the  verbal  reasons,  or 
even  the  glossary  necessities,  which  had  been  followed,  or  yielded  to, 
in  several  of  these  instances ;  and  this,  as  well  where  the  metrical 
rule  has  been  adhered  to,  as  where  a  deviation  from  it  has  been 
admitted. 

Leaving  unattempted  any  such   critical   analysis  of  the  metrical 
Hebrew  poems  as  is  here  imagined,  we  may  very  safely  assume,  as 
probable,  a  reason  why  a  structure  so  artificial  as  that  of  the  Lamenta- 
tions, or  of  the  119th,  and  other  Psalms,  sliould  have  been  employed  in 
the  constitution  of  the  Canon  of  Scripture.     Generall}-',  the  reasons 
which  supply  our  answer  to  the  questions — Why  should  the  Inspired 
writings  adopt  the  poetic  style,  and  why,  to  so  large  an  extent  as 
they  do  ?  and  why  should  they  in  tins  manner  submit  the  thought  to 
the  arbitrary  sway  of  metrical  rules  f — appl}^  in  full  force  to  any  minor 
question,  relating  to  cases  in  which  certain  rales  of  structure,  which 
are  in  an  extreme  degree  artificial  are  complied  with  by  the  inspired 
Avriters.     The  obvious  advantages  of  the  poetic  style,  and  of  a  metri- 
cal structure,  are — the  adaptation  of  both  to  the  tastes  and  culture 
of  tlie  people ;  and  especially  the  adaptation  of  the  latter  to  the  pur- 
pose of  storing   these   compositions   in   the   memory,    from   infancy 
upward.     Thus  it  was  that  the  minds  of  this — indeed  favoured,  though 
afflicted — people,  were  richl}''  furnished  with  religious  and  moral  senti- 
ments ;   and  thus  was  meditative  thought  nourished,  and  suggested, 
and  directed,  and  was  made  conducive  to  the  momentous  purposes  of 
the  individual,  and  of  the  domestic  spiritual  life.     Too  little  do  we 
now  take  account,   in   our  Biblical  readings  and  criticisms,  of  this 
deep-going  purpose  of  the  Hebrew  poetic  Scriptures,  which,  through 
centuries  of  national  weal  and  woe,  have  nourished  millions  and  mil- 
lions of  souls — "  unto  life  eternal."     Thus  it  was  that  those  who,  in 


HEBREW    POETRY.  295 

the  lapse  of  ages,  should  bo  "  more  in  immber  than  the  stars  of  hea- 
ven," were  trained  for  tlieir  galliering-.  one  by  one,  into  tlie  '"Ijosoni 
of  Abraham." 

As  to  tlie  Lamentations,  and  the  liighly  artilicial  structure  which 
distinguislies  tliem,  as  being  the  most  artilicial  portions  of  the  entire 
Hebrew  Canon,  a  peculiar,  and  a  very  deep  iiistoric  meaning  is  sug- 
gested hy  tins  very  peculiarity.  Through  long — long  tracts  of  time,  tliis 
one  immortal  people  has  been  left,  as  if  forsaken  of  God,  to  weep  in 
exile.  The  man  who  found  a  grave  in  any  strange  land,  but  a  home 
in  none,  took  up  this  word — "  Th\^  testimonies  have  been  my  songs  in 
the  house  of  ni}--  pilgrimage."  In  the  scatterings  and  wanderings  of 
families,  and  in  lonely  journeyings— in  deserts  and  in  cities,  where  no 
synagogue-service  could  be  enjoyed,  the  metrical  Scriptures — infixed 
as  they  were  in  the  memory,  by  the  very  means  of  these  artificial 
devices  of  versets,  and  of  alphabetic  order,  and  of  alliteration — became 
food  t©  the  soul.  Thus  was  the  religious  constanc}'-  of  tlie  people, 
and  its  brave  endurance  of  injury  and  insult,  sustained  and  animated. 
Thus  was  it  that,  seated  in  some  dismal  lurking  place  of  a  suburb, 
disconsolate  where  all  around  him  was  life,  tlie  Jew  uttered  his  disre- 
garded plaint: — 

Is  it  nothing  to  you,  all  j-e  that  pass  by  ? 

Iiel\(>Ul,  and  see  if  there  be  any  sorrow  like  unto  my  sorrow,  which  is  done 

unto  me, 
Wherewith  the  Lord  hath  afflicted  me  in  the  day  of  Ilis  fierce  anger. 

The  purpose  which  has  been  kept  in  sight  in  these  pages  may  here 
again  be  adverted  to.  The  one  inference  that  is  derivable  from  the 
fact  of  the  artificial,  or  arbitrary  metrical  structure  of  the  Hebrew 
poetic  Scriptures  is,  as  I  think,  this — that  the  high  intention  of  the 
Iikspired  writings  is  secured — over  the  conditions  and  the  require- 
ra-ents.  and  the  necessities,  of  language : — this  high  intention  is 
secured  beneath  these  conditions  and  requirements  and  necessities ; 
and  it  is  secured  in  and  among  them.  Where  these  requirements 
seem  most  to  rule  the  course  of  thought,  and  where  most  the  tyranny 
of  the  medium  appears  to  triumph  over  the  sovereign  purpo.se — that 
purpose  nevertheless  comes  oflt"  undamaged  and  entire.  In  witnci'sing 
what  we  might  regard  as  a  conHict  between  the  medium,  and  the 
mind,  of  Scripture,  the  mind  saves  itself,  and  the  medium  prevails, 
only  in  appearance. 


296  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

Note  to  page  223. 
The  Groelc  version  of  the  Ilthreiu  Scriptures.  A  large  subject, 
abounding  in  facts  that  invite, 'and  that  would  repay,  learned  industry, 
is  tiie  dilfusion  of  the  Septuagint  translation  during  the  pra- Apostolic 
era,  and  its  actual  influence  in  preparing  a  people,  gathered  from 
among  the  heathen,  for  the  promulgation  of  the  Gospel.  The  facts 
belonging  to  this  subject  would  need  to  be  collected  at  the  cost  of 
some  labour,  from  the  earliest  of  tlie  Christian  writers— especially  the 
apologists,  such  as  Tatian,  Athenagoras,  Clement  of  Alexandria,  and 
Origen,  Much,  of  course,  from  Philo  and  Josephus.  More  than  a 
little  also  might  be  gleaned  from  the  writings  of  Plutarch,  Seneca, 
Athenjfius,  Horace,  Juvenal,  Lucian ;  and  much  from  the  two  treasures 
of  antiquity — the  "  Evangelic  Demonstration,"  and  the  "  Preparation," 
of  Eusebius.  Among  those  instances  of  providential  interposition 
which  favoured  the  spread  and  triumph  of  Christianity,,  none  are  more 
signal,  or  more  worthy  of  regard,  than  is  this  of  the  eai'ly  anjj  wide 
diffusion  of  the  Old  Testament  Scriptures  by  the  means  of  the  Alex- 
andrian version.  Whatever  may  be  its  faults,  or  failures — and  on  this 
ground  more  is  often  alleged  than  could  be  proved — undoubtedly  it 
truthfully  conveys  the  theologic  purport  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures ; 
and  in  so  doing,  at  the  first,  that  is  to  saj',  from  about  b.  c  140  to, 
and  beyond,  the  Apostolic  age,  it  had  "  made  ready  a  people  for  the 
Lord"  in  almost  every  city  wherein  the  Greek  language  was  spoken. 
Wherever  the  Apostles  came  "  preaching  the  word,"  t\\Qj  found 
among  the  frequenters  of  the  Sabbath  services  in  the  Jewish  Syna- 
gogue not  only  listeners^  as  they  might  also  among  remoter  barbarians, 
but  learners,  who  already  were  well  conversant  with  the  phraseology 
of  a  true  theology,  and  of  a  pure  devotional  service.  In  most  cities 
there  were  a  few  of  the  philosophic  class  (this  may  fairly  be  assumed) 
who  were  used  to  drop  in  to  the  synagogue  and  listen  to  the  reading 
of  Moses  and  the  Prophets.  No  doubt,  among  the  "  honorable 
women"  of  those  places  there  were  many — very  many — Sabbath 
worshippers  who  had  found,  in  the  Jewish  Synagogue,  that  liturgy  of 
the  soul  which  woman's  nature  more  quickl}'  discerns,  and  more  truly 
appreciates,  than  does  man's  nature,  or  than  his  pride  will  allow  him 
to  accept,  or  care  for.  Thus  it  was  that  by  means  of  the  Greek 
Scriptures,  road-ways  had  been  made  for  the  conveyance  of  the 
Gospel — north,  south,  east,  and  west ;  and  thus  that  word  had  been 


HEBREW    POETRY.  297 


fulfilled — "  Prepare    ye    the   way   of    the    Lord,   make    His    paths 
straight." 

It  was,  we  say,  the  truth  in  tlieology  that  had  thus  been  carried  forth 
throughout  the  Greek-speaking  world :  it  could  not  be  the  poetry  of 
the  prophets;  it  was  their  theism  and  their  ethics.  To  Greek  minds 
of  the  cultured  class,  the  strange  idioms,  and  the  allusive  phrases 
which  abound  in  the  version  of  the  Seventy,  must  have  had  the  eflect 
of  quite  dispelling  or  offending  those  tastes  which,  otherwise,  the 
Hebrew  poetry  might  have  awakened.  Readers  of  Greek  poetry 
could  not  but  distaste  the  Psalmists  and  the  Prophets — if  thought  of 
as  poets.  Such  readers  accepted  them  only  in  their  higher  character 
as  teachers  of  piety. 

Note  to  page  224. 

The  Rahhinical  mood.  The  Rabbis  of  a  later  age  appear  to  have 
followed  in  the  track  of  their  masters — the  Scribes  of  the  Apostolic 
age ;  and,  serviceable  as  these  Jewish  versionists  and  commentators 
no  doubt  are — for  they  were  ministers  in  the  providential  scheme 
which  has  secured  the  safe  transmission  of  the  Inspired  writings  to 
later  times— it  was  not  their  function  to  concern  themselves  with  the 
soul  and  spirit — with  the  fire — of  the  national  literature;  but  only 
with  the  letter.  Thus  writes  a  competent  critic  : — "  Nihil  nisi  tradi- 
tiones  Scribffi  docuerunt,  quid  sc.  hie  aut  ille  Doctor,  aut  Synedrimn 
quondam  docuerit  aut  determinarit ;  quid  Hillel,  Shammai,  Baba  ben 
Buta,  Rabban  Simeon,  aut  Gamaliel,  aut  alii  eruditi,  asseverint,  aut 
negarint ;  aut  qui  banc  aut  illamve  qtuestionem  proposuerint,  aut  qui 
hoc  aut  illud  determinarint.  .  .  .  Doctrina  omnis  Sciibarum  circa 
externa  maxim^  versabatur,  vulgares  scilicet  conununesque  ritus  ac 
caerimonias,  ut  in  Codice  Thalmudico  ubique  apparet.  .  .  .  Yix  quid- 
quam  prater  carnalia  Thalmud  continet,  ut  legenti  patebit."  Light- 
foot,  vol.  I.  p.  50-1:. 

Note  to  imge  227. 

Basil's  description  of  his  delicious  retreat,  on  the  banks  of  the  Iris, 
I  have  had  occasion  to  adduce  at  length  in  another  place.  The  pas- 
sage has  also  been  cited  more  than  once  or  twice  by  modern  writers, 
and  I  need  not  repeat  the  quotation  here,  where,  in  fact,  it  could  bear 
upon  the  subject  of  this  volume  only  in  an  indirect  manner.  It  is 
enough  here  to  point  out  the  characteristic  dilTerence,  distinguishing 
the  ascetic  tastes  and  style  of  the  Eastern,  and  of  the  Western  mona- 


298  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

chisin :  a  poetic  feeling,  a  mildness,  a  sense  of  the  beautiful,  may  be 
traced  in  the  one,  contrasted  witli  the  rigour  and  murkiness  that  belong 
to  tlie  other.  It  is  true  that  abstemmifiness  was  carried  to  a  greater 
extent  by  the  Greek  ascetics;  but  severity  in  modes  of  living  was  the 
boast  of  the  monks  of  the  West.  Fasting  was  comparatively  easy  in 
the  sultry  East,  and  in  Egypt — appetite  was  terribly  clamorous  in 
Gaul.  So  sa3^s  Sulpitius  Severus: — "Nam  edacitas  in  Grsecis,  gula 
est,  in  Gallis,  natura."     Dialog,  i. 

Note  to  page  228. 

The  influence  of  the  Inspired  writings  upon  national  literatures. 

It  cannot  be  said  that  the  Hebrew  poetry  has  given  a  poetry  to  anj' 
modern  literature.  Its  influence  has  been  rather  to  give  poetrj' — to 
give  dejDth,  force,  animation,  feeling,  to  the  prose,  and  to  the  political 
and  common  life  of  those  modern  nations  among  whom  the  Scrip- 
tures— the  Old  Testament  especially — have  been  the  most  freely  dif- 
fused. Hitherto  no  attempt  to  idealize,  or  to  heroize,  or  to  transmute 
into  the  dramatic  form,  the  persons,  or  the  events,  or  the  conceptions 
of  the  Bible,  has  been  anything  better  than  a  faihu'e :  the  instances 
that  might  be  named  as  exceptions,  might  better  be  named  as  exam- 
ples confirmatory  of  this  broad  assertion.  What  are  Racine's  Esther 
or  Athalia?  What  is  Klopstock's  Messiah?  What  is  Milton's  Para- 
dise Regained?  What  are  these  ill-judged  enterprises  better  than 
Mrs.  Hannah  More's  Sacred  Dramas  ? — vapid,  wearisome,  ineffective, 
either  for  edification,  or  for  entertainment  1  Paradise  Lost  is  not  an 
exceptive  instance ;  for  it  is  a  mere  germ — an  almost  nothing — in  this 
great  poem  that  is  properly  Biblical :  it  is  a  realization  of  conceptions 
tliat  have  had  quite  another  source,  or  other  sources  ;  modern,  much 
rather  than  ancient,  and  in  which  Moses  and  the  Prophets  make  much 
less  appearance  than  do  Dante,  Michael  Angelo,  and  some  of  the  Ger- 
man and  middle-age  painters.  In  a  Christian  sense,  it  must  be 
acknowledged  that  the  paganized  orthodoxy  (is  it  orthodox}'?)  of 
Paradise  Lost  offends,  much  more  than  it  satisfies,  Christian  belief. 
Whatever  in  Milton  is  purely  terrestrial  and  human,  reaches  at  once 
the  sublime ;  but  whatever  is  celestial,  whatever  is  transacted  oji  an 
upper  stage,  barely  saves  itself  from  the  bathos :  or  if  among  the 
supernals  the  true  sublime  is  attained,  it  is  in  hell,  not  in  heaven,  that 
this  success  has  been  achieved. 


HEBREW    POETRY.  299 

There  is  room  for  a  parallel  affirmation  in  regard  to  tlic  poetry  of 
ancient  Greece,  which  has  not  given  a  poetry  to  any  modern  litera- 
ture; but  instead  of  this,  it  has  been  Greece,  in  its  history,  in  its 
philosophy,  in  its  politics,  that  has  given  a  poetry — a  depth,  a  force, 
an  animation,  to  the  prose — to  the  public  life  of  (free)  modern  nations. 
A  repetition,  or  an  attempt  to  put  forth  iu  modern  guise  the  classical 
poetry,  barely  reaches  the  faint  evanescent  colours  of  the  reflected 
arch  in  a  double  rainbow :  such  repetitions  are  exercises  for  school- 
boys. Yet  is  it  true  that  modern  public  life,  in  free  communities,  has 
breathed  a  spirit  which  has  drawn  the  power  and  fire  of  poetry  from 
classic  prose.  It  is  neither  Homer's  heroes,  nor  those  of  -^schylus, 
that  have  made  the  great  men  of  modern  states  what  they  were :  but 
it  is  the  real  men  of  the  best  times  of  Athens:  it  has  been  tliis  influ- 
ence, mainly,  that  has  thrown  a  poetic  glow  upon  selfish  ambition. 
So  far  then  as  what  is  here  affirmed  may  be  true,  we  shall  look  for 
the  "  mighty  influence"  of  the  Scriptures,  when  it  has  displayed  itself 
in  national  literatures,  not  in  the  poetj-y  directly,  but  in  the  prose,  and 
in  the  life  of  each  people ;  and  so  it  will  be  that  the  Bible-reading 
nations  of  modern  Europe  have  displayed,  in  the  most  decisive  man- 
ner, that  richness  as  well  as  quaintness — that  soul-force,  that  intensity 
of  the  social  affections — that  moral  energy  of  the  irascible  emotions, 
which  declare  their  source  to  have  been  the  Hebrew  Scriptures.  The 
Englajid  and  the  Scotland  of  the  seventeenth  century  were  rich  in 
men  of  force,  whose  behaviour  and  language,  whose  courage,  and 
humanity  too,  breathed  a  Bible  inspiration,  raised  above  vulgarity  or 
barbarism  by  the  training  of  Bible  history  and  poetry. 

Note  to  page  248. 
The  Apology  of  Socraiee.     The  closing  words  of  the  Apology,  as 
reported  by  Plato,  may  be  open  to  a  question,  as  to  the  precise  mean- 
ing which  they  carry — or  which  they  carried  in  the  mind  of  the  mas- 
ter, or  of  his  disciple :  they  are  these  (ofteai  cited) — 'AAXa   yh^  i,6n 

dTTiei'ai  iiioi  filv  diroOavuvfiivu),  intv  di  0io)ffOftSvois'  hirSrepoi  6e  i'lfuov  tp^^^ovrai 
irl    aneivov   Trpayixa,  aST,\ov   navrl   5)    r^    0£o~.        There   migllt   be   room   tO 

ask — In  thus  speaking  was  Socrates  thinking  of  the  life  and  the  world 
he  was  leaving,  or  of  the  world — the  hidden  future,  the  Hades— upon 
which  ho  was  about  to  enter?  If  of  the  former,  then  his  meaning 
would  be — God  only  knows  whether  it  be  not  a  better  thing  to  die, 


800  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

as  I  am  about  to  die,  under  an  unmerited  sentence — to  die,  an  inno- 
cent man,  than  to  live — as  you,  my  inequitable  judges,  will  live,  con- 
demned now  by  your  own  consciences,  and  soon  to  be  followed  by 
the  execrations  of  the  Athenian  people.  But  even  if  the  philosopher, 
as  we  may  well  suppose,  had  his  eye  fixed  upon  the  future — the 
unseen  world,  there  are  still  two  senses  between  which  a  choice 
might  be  made ;  for  he  might  intend  to  say — God  only  knows  whether 
the  happiness  which  I  have  in  prospect  is  not  such  as  greatly  to  out- 
weigh all  those  pleasures  of  the  present  life  which  you,  my  judges, 
may  yet  live  to  enjoy.  Or,  on  this  second  supposition,  the  other  sense 
may  be  this — God  only  knows  to  which  of  us — whether  to  me,  or  to 
you — the  happier  lot  shall  be  assigned,  when,  at  length,  you  and  1 
together  shall  come  to  meet  our  dues,  severalh^,  in  Hades,  according  to 
the  award  of  inexorable  and  impartial  justice.  This  last  meaning  of 
the  words  may  find  support  in  some  passages  of  the  Phsedo :  but  per- 
haps it  draws  its  chief  support  in  our  minds,  from  our  own  Christian 
beliefs.  The  version  of  the  phrase  which  Cicero  gives  (Tusc.  Quest. 
I.  44)  does  not  determine  the  sense — "  Utrum  autem  sit  melius." 
Lactantius  (Instit.  vii.  2)  in  repeating  this  passage  from  Cicero,  adduces 
it  in  illustration  of  his  argument,  touching  the  uncertainty  of  all  philo- 
sophical speculations — "  Quare  necesse  est  omnes  philosophise  sectas, 
alienas  esse  a  veritate ;  quia  homines  errant,  qui  eas  constituerunt ; 
nee  ullum  fundamentum,  aut  firmitatem  possunt  habere  qua?  nuUis 
divinarum  vocum  fulciuutur  oraculis." 

Whatever  the  meaning  of  the  martyr-philosopher  in  this  instance,  or 
in  other  instances,  might  be,  it  is  certain  that  he,  and  his  profound 
disciple,  laboured  to  their  best,  in  the  mine  of  thought ;  or,  changing 
the  figure — that,  with  sincere  purpose,  they  toiled  along  that  rugged 
thorny  path  that  leadeth  upward  from  the  sordid  and  sensual  levels 
of  the  world,  toward  a  world  of  light,  truth,  goodness,  upon  which 
upward,  rugged,  thorny  path,  none  shall  walk  and  lose  his  way — 
none,  if  indeed  the  modesty  and  the  sincerity  of  Socrates  be  in  them, 
for  it  is  these  qualities  that  give  the  soul  its  aptitude  to  receive  guid- 
ance from  above,  where  it  may  be  had.  Socrates,  and  Plato  too,  in 
professing  their  consciousness  of  the  need  of  a  heavenly  leading  on 
this  path,  approached  very  near  to  an  expression  of  David's  better 
confidence: — 


HEBREW    POETRY.  801 


Tnou  wilt  not  leave  {abandon,  ovic  iyKaTaXetipt.ts)  my  soul  in  Ilades; 

Thou  wilt  show  ine  the  path  of  life  : 

In  Thy  presence  is  fulness  of  joy ; 

At  Tiiv  light  hand  are  pleasures  for  evermore. 

Note  to  page  266. 

The  mission  of  the  Scriptures.  A  subject  too  large,  as  well  as  too  deep 
to  find  room  for  itself  in  a  note;  but  it  is  a  subject  which  might  well 
engage  the  meditations  of  those  who  will,  and  who  can,  calmly  think  of 
the  course  of  things  at  this  moment.  There  is  a  stage  of  intellectual  and 
literary  sophistication,  commingling  fastidious  tastes  and  the  sardonic 
frivolity  of  luxurious  modes  of  life,  which  will  never  consist  with  the 
feelings,  the  tastes,  the  moral  habitudes,  that  belong  to  a  devout  read- 
ing, study,  relish,  and  home-use  of  the  Bible.  Whoever  has  had  near 
acquaintance  with  leisurely  cultured  life,  in  this,  its  advanced  stage  of 
refinement,  and  whoever  has  felt  the  potent  influence  of  such  an 
atmosphere  upon  himself  for  a  length  of  time,  and  has  learned  to  relish 
the  ironies,  the  mockeries,  the  spiritualisms  of  the  region,  with  its  soft 
intellectuality,  and  its  epicureanism,  will  think  that  a  thousand 
leagues  of  interval  are  not  too  many  to  intervene  between  such  a 
region  and  a  home  where  there  is  feeling  and  truth,  and  within  which 
the  Scriptures — Prophets  and  Apostles — might  be  listened  to,  and 
where  those  ministers  of  God  might  make  their  appeal  to  the  deeper 
principles  of  human  nature.  Is  it  that  the  canonical  writings  hare 
been  proved  untrue?  Is  it  that  Revelation  has  lately  been  tried,  and 
found  wanting?  It  ia  not  so;  but  those  who  spend  life  in  the  pre- 
cincts of  well-bred  affectations  find  that  they  have  come  into  a  mood 
which  renders  the  Bible,  in  its  wonted  place^-on  the  table,  at  home — 
an  unwelcome  object.  There  is  felt  to  be  a  sacrilege,  even,  in 
opening  the  book  while  the  fancy  is  revelling  in  whatever  is  frivo- 
lously intellectual  and  artistically  sensuous.  To  produce  this  eftect, 
there  need  be  nothing  gross  or  licentious  in  the  converse  of  our  inti- 
mates, whose  converse,  nevertheless,  docs  not  consist,  never  will  con- 
sist, with  Bible-reading  habitudes:  the  two  influences  are  irreconcilably 
repellant,  the  one  of  the  other. 

In  every  highly-cultured  community  there  is  an  upper  stage,  or 
privileged  enclosure,  within  which  this  sophistication  bears  sway,  and 
is  always  in  progress;  but  so  long  as  its  circuit  is  limited,  and  so  long 
as  it  includes  none  but  either  the  wealthy,  and  the  parasites  of  wealth. 


302  THE    SPIRIT    OF    THE 

ami  a  few  intruders,  the  masses  of  the  people  may  retain  the  native 
force  of  their  feelings — their  genuineness,  their  serious  beliefs,  and 
their  consciousness  of  the  strenuous  realities  of  life.  Among  such  a 
people  the  Bible  may  retain,  and  may  exert  its  proper  inlluence.  But 
there  is  a  tendency,  wliich,  from  day  to  day,  is  enlarging  the  circle  of 
upper-class  sophistication,  and  which  therefore,  in  the  same  proportion, 
is  driving  in  the  boundaries  of  the  more  robust  national  moral  consci- 
ousness. Narrowed  continually  it  is,  moreover,  by  all  those  well- 
intended  devices  of  recent  invention,  the  purpose  of  which  is  to  bring 
the  luxuries  of  art,  in  all  hues,  and  the  fine  things  of  literature,  withia 
reach  of  the  middle,  and  of  the  labouring  classes. 

Should  we  then  step  forward,  and,  in  gloomy  mood,  attempt  to 
arrest  this  course  of  things?  This  may  not  be;  nor  would  any 
endeavours  of  this  sort  avail  for  the  purpose  intended.  Nevertheless 
the  issue  is  inevitable;  or  it  is  so  unless,  within  the  upper  classes, 
and  especially  within  and  among  the  ministers  of  religion,  a  decisive 
renovation  of  religious  convictions  should  take  place.  Let  this  be, 
and  then  the  Scriptures  will  retain  their  place  of  power;  but  if  not, 
then  our  institutions,  liowever  stable  they  may  seem,  will  crumble 
into  dust,  wrouglit  upon  daily,  as  they  are,  by  the  dry-rot  of  sophisti- 
cated intellectuality,  and  epicurean  tastes.  This  is  the  course  of 
things  in  England;  and  such  has  long  been  the  actual  condition  of  our 
nearest  continental  neighbours. 

At  this  moment  the  spread  of  infidelit}'-,  especially  in  the  educated 
classes,  is  spoken  of  with  alarm.  Yet  the  unbelief  of  educated 
Englishmen  is  not  a  product  of  reason:  it  is  not  the  ascertained 
upshot  of  an  argument:  it  is  not  the  result  of  a  controversy  wliich 
may  have  been  unskilfully  managed  on  the  side  of  belief  This 
infidelity,  or  this  pantheism,  or  this  atheism,  which  walks  the  streets 
with  a  noiseless  camel-tread — breathing  in  the  ear  from  behind — this 
rife  infidelity,  is  the  natural  out-sj)eak  of  intellectual  and  literary 
sophistication,  and  of  that  relish  for  frivolous  pleasures,  the  operation 
of  which  is  to  render  the  tastes  factitious,  and  to  lull  the  moral 
consciousness,  and  to  falsify  the  social  affections;  and  which  so 
perverts  the  reasoning  faculty  that  evidence  produces  an  effect  in  au 
inverse  ratio  to  its  actual  force. 

Meantime  the  Sci-iptures  are  fulfilling  their  mission.  Among  our- 
selves, and  abroad,  the  Bible  goes  on  its  way,  and  it  prospers  to  the 


IIEBIIEW    POETRY.  308 

tnd  wherdo  He  thai  thus  sends  it,  sent  it.  The  Scriptures  take  elTect 
upon  men — sinjil}-,  and  in  connnunities — among  whom  what  is  real  in 
human  nature,  what  is  strong  and  groat,  still  subsist:  the  Scriptures 
come  where  the}'  come,  as  the  dew;  or  as  the  rain  from  heaven;  or 
tliev  come  as  the  tempest: — tlie  word  is  gentle,  and  germinating;  or 
it  is  a  force  irresistible;  and  it  does  its  office,  here  or  there,  as  the 
need  may  be,  where  human  nature,  as  to  its  moral  elements,  is  still  in 
a  culturable  state,  and  is  still  reclaimable:  as  to  those,  and  at  this 
time  they  are  many,  who,  in  respect  of  the  moral  elements  of  human 
nature,  have  passed  beyond  this  range  by  the  deadly  influence  of 
luxurious  refinements — the  message  from  Heaven  leaves  them  where 
they  are,  and  goes  forward.  It  is  thus  that  individual  men,  and  that 
communities,  may  lose  their  part  in  God's  Revelation.  At  this  time, 
and  among  ourselves,  so  false  and  fatal  a  condition  is  that  of  a  class 
only;  but  it  is  the  class  which,  by  its  culture,  and  its  intelligence, 
possesses  the  means  and  the  opportunity  to  speak  for  itself;  audit  is 
thus  that  an  estimate  of  its  numbers,  and  of  its  mental  and  moral 
importance — greatl}^  exaggerated,  is  made  by  itself,  on  the  one  side ; 
and  by  those  who  speak  of  it  in  tones  of  vivid  alarm,  on  the  other 
side. 


THE    END. 


BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH* 

Isaac  Taylor  was  the  son  of  tlie  late  Rev.  Isaac 
Taylor,  a  dissenting  minister  at  Ongar,  in  Essex,  and 
brother  of  Jane  Taylor,  whose  "  Contributions  of  Q.  Q." 
are  well  known.  He  was  born  about  the  close  of  the  last 
century,  and,  we  believe,  educated  privately  under  the 
immediate  superintendence  of  his  father.  He  was  ori- 
ginally destined  for  the  dissenting  pulpit,  and  com- 
menced a  course  of  preparatory  study ;  but  he  soon 
relinquished  the  idea  of  becoming  a  minister,  and  turned 
his  thoughts  to  the  bar.  His  connexion  with  the  legal 
profession  was  not  of  long  duration.  He  betook  him- 
self to  literature,  and  for  many  years  lived  in  retirement 
at  Stanford  Rivers — a  beautiful  rural  retreat  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  his  native  place.  In  this  secluded 
spot  he  wrote  and  published  anonymously  "The  Natu- 
ral History  of  Enthusiasm,"  and  other  works,  some  of 
■which  have  had  a  fair  share  of  popular  f:ivour,  more 
especially  among  the  enlightened  and  thoughtful  of  the 
various  dissenting  communities.  His  other  priiu-ipal 
works  are  "Ancient  Christianity,"  published  periodi- 
cally, and  manifesting  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
Avritings  of  the  early  fathers — an  attempt  to  meet  the 
Tractarians  on  tlieir  own  ground,  and  to  prove  that 
some  of  these  ancient  writers  were  not  so  immaculate, 
either  in  doctrine  or  morals,  as  to  entitle  them  to  the 
blind  adherenco  clnimed  for  them  by  their  modern  eulo- 

*  From  "Men  of  the  Time."     Kent  &  Co.     London.     1859. 


BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH. 

gists — "Elements  of  Thought,"  a  small  treatise  which 
is  used  as  a  sort  of  vade  mecuin  by  students  entering 
upon  their  i)hiloso[)hical  studies  in  dissenting  colleges — 
"  The  Physical  Theory  of  Another  Life,"  in  which  he 
indulges  in  speculations  respecting  the  material  condi- 
tion of  man  and  other  created  beings  in  a  future  state. 
The  mental  characteristics  displayed  in  this  and  his 
other  works  gave  rise  to  a  highly  amusing  and  inte- 
resting article  from  the  pen  of  Sir  James  Stephen,  in 
the  "  Edinburgh  Review."  Mr.  Taylor,  however,  was 
comparatively  little  appreciated  as  a  writer  until  it 
became  known  that  he  was  the  author  of  "  The  Natural 
History  of  Enthusiasm."  He  had  been  for  some  time 
before  the  public  in  propria  persona^  but  failed  to  elicit 
that  attention  to  his  writings  which  theii-  intrinsic 
merits  deserved.  His  circuitous  style  and  Coleridgean 
manner  of  viewing  the  various  subjects  on  which  he 
wrote  proved  a  great  barrier  to  his  popularity.  His 
classical  learning,  his  philosophical  acuteness,  and  his 
general  culture,  were  never  called  in  question  ;  but  the 
laboured  obscurity  of  style,  and  his  indefinite  mode  of 
expression,  proved  substantial  obstacles  to  his  literary 
fame.  "The  Natural  History  of  Enthusiasm,"  how- 
ever, was  very  differently  received  by  tho  religious 
public.  It  was  fortunate  in  the  time  of  its  ap])earance. 
It  was  issued  when  the  excitement  and  entliusiasm  con- 
nected with  Row  and  Irving  were  at  their  heiglit.  ^[r. 
Taylor's  philosophico-religious  turn  of  mind,  his  pre- 
vious studies,  and  even  his  ])eculiarities  of  style,  enabled 
him  to  treat  this  subject  in  a  manner  agreeable  to  all 
professors  of  religion,  of  whatever  sect  or  denomination. 
Young  men  prej^aring  for  the  ministry  began  to  imitate 
the   idiosynci-asies  of  its   style,  and   some  with  greatei 


BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH.  3J7 

success  to  imbibe  its  uiisect:irian  spirit.  His  otlier  works 
on  kindred  subjects,  "  Fiinaticisni,''  "  Spiritual  Dcsi)ot- 
ism,"  "  Loyola  and  Jesuitism,"  "  Wesley  and  Method- 
ism ;"  the  series  of  sacred  meditations  entitled  "  Satur- 
day Evening,"  and  "Home  Education;"  have  all  been 
well  received,  although  their  popularity  has  been  by  no 
means  equal  to  that  which  "The  Natural  History  of 
Enthusiasm  "  has  all  along  maintained.  In  addition  to 
his  gifts  as  an  author,  Mr.  Taylor  possesses  a  certain 
amount  of  mechanical  genius,  Avhich,  we  believe,  he  has 
turned  to  some  profitable  account  in  originating  various 
designs  of  a  useful  and  ornamental  character.  It  may 
not  be  uninteresting  to  add  that  his  habits  are  simple 
and  methodical ;  although  a  "  recluse,"  as  he  somewhere 
in  his  writings  styles  himself,  he  is  said  to  be  an  expert 
and  eager  angler,  and  fond  of  healthy  and  manly  sports. 
He  spends  his  Saturday  mornings  in  directing  the  games 
of  his  children,  while  his  Saturday  evenings  are  devoted 
to  meditations  of  a  religious  character,  similar  to  those 
which  appear  in  the  Avork  under  that  name ;  and  on 
Sundays  he  occasionally  preaches,  although  a  layman,  to 
the  great  delight  of  those  who  are  fortunate  enough  to 
hear  him.  His  books  have  all,  or  nearly  all,  been 
republislied  in  America,  and  have  had  an  extensive 
circulation  in  the  States  as  well  as  in  Canada. 


A  CATALOGUE 


WRITINGS    OF    ISAAC   TAYLOR. 


A ncient  Oliristianity ^ 

And  the  Doctrines  of  the  Oxford  Tracts  for  the  Times.  Fourth 
Edition,  with  Supplement,  Index,  and  Tables.  2  vols.  8vo.,  pp 
550  and  700.     London,  1844. 

An-cient  Christianity^ 

And  the  Doctrines  of  the  Oxford  Tracts  for  the  Times.  Supple- 
ment, including  Index,  Tables,  <fec.    Svc,  pp.  142.    London,  1844 

Spiritual  Despotism, 

Second  Edition.     8vo.,  pp.  504.     London,  1835. 

Fanaticism,     svo. 

Natural  History  of  Enthusiasm, 

Eighth  Edition.     8vo.     London. 

Saturday  Evening, 

Sixth  Edition.     Svo.     London.     12mo.,  pp.  379. 

Home  Education. 

Crown  Svo.     London,  1838. 

Physiccd  Theory  of  Another  Life.     svo. 
Four  Lectures  on  Spiritual  Christianity^ 

Delivered  in  the  Hanover-Square  Rooms,  London,  March,  1841. 

12nio.,  pp.  203.      London,  1841. 


Writuigs  of  Isaac  laylor. 

Elements  of  Thoiujlit ; 

Or,  Concise  Explanations,  Alphabetically  Arranged,  of  the  Prin- 
cipal Terms  Employed  in  the  Different  Branches  of  Intellectual 
Philosophy.     Seventh  Edition.     12mo.     London, 

An  Essay ^ 

Introductory  to  a  New  Edition  of  Pascal's  Thoughts.     12mo. 

Transmission  of  Ancient  Boohs 

To  Modern  Times.     8vo. 

Essay 

On  the  Application  of  Abstract  Reasoning  in  the  Christian  Doc- 
trine. Originally  published  as  an  Introduction  to  Edwards  on 
the  Will.     12mo.,  pp.  163.     Boston,  1832. 

Wesley  an  Methodist  / 

A  Review,  published  in  the  Edinburgh  Review, 

Introductory  Essay 

To  a  Translation  of  Pfizer's  Life  of  Luther. 

Loyola  and  Jesuitism 

In  its  Rudiments.     12 mo.,  pp.  416.     London,  1850. 

Process  of  Historical  Proof,     svo. 
Balance  of  Qriminality^ 

Or  Mental  Error.     12mo. 

Jane  Taylor''s  Worhs, 

A  New  Edition.     With  a  Life  and  Notes.     6  vols.     12mo. 

Wesley  and  Methodism. 
Josephus^  The  Worhs  of, 

A  New  Translation,  by  the  Rev.  Robert  Traill,  with  Notes,  Ex- 
planatory Essays,  and  Pictorial  Illustrations.  Edited  by  haac 
Taylor.     Royal  Svo.     L.-ndon,  1 817. 


Writings  of  Isaac  Taylor. 


HestoratUm  of  Belief. 

The  Restoration  of  Belief.     12ino.,  pp.  381.     Cambridge,  1855. 

World  of  Mind. 

The  "World  of  Mind,  an  Elementary  Book.    13mo.    London,  1858 

Logic  of  Theology. 

Logic  of  Theology  and  other  Essays.     12mo,pp.  384.     London, 
1859. 

I Jltim a te  Civ  ilizci t ion. 

Ultimate    Civilization,   and    other    Essays.     By    Isaac    Taylor 
London,  1860. 

Hebrew  Poetry. 

The  Spii'it  of  the  Hebrew  Poetry.    8vo,,  pp.  363.    London,  1861. 


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